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Copyright^!?-_S-k 


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SILVERADO 

The Story of a Colorado 
Mining Town 



































. 







































» 






























Silverado was situated at the base of three high mountains (Page 13) 


























SILVERADO 


The Story of a Colorado Mining Town 


BY 

Charles K. Holmburg 




CHICAGO 

1923 





Copyrighted, 1923 
By Charles K. Holmburg 

A 11 Rights Reserved. 


Printed in the United States of America. 


©C1A766205 

DEC 5 V*? I 


TO MY WIFE, 

ANNA FRANCES HOLMBURG, 
THIS BOOK IS 
LOVINGLY DEDICATED. 


The wheels of nature are not made to roll backward; 
everything presses on toward Eternity; from the birth of 
Time an impetuous current has set in, which bears all 
the sons of men toward that interminable ocean. Mean¬ 
while Heaven is attracting to itself whatever is congenial 
to its nature, is enriching itself by the spoils of earth, and 
collecting within its capacious bosom, whatever is pure, 
permanent and divine. —Robert Hall. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER 

✓ 

PAGE 

I 

The Delayed Stage and Mail 

1 

II 

The Silver Camp 

. 12 

III 

In the “ Record ” Office . 

23 

IV 

A Visit to Snelle’s Cabin 

. 29 

V 

A Scene in the “ Beanery ” and What 


Followed 

39 

VI 

Harmon Defies the Vigilantes 

. 47 

VII 

At the “ White House ” Party . 

56 

VIII 

Silverado Experiences a Mining Boom 65 

IX 

A Parson Comes to Town . 

. 77 

X 

John Snelle Tells His Story 

91 

XI 

Jennings Under Suspicion 

. 101 

XII 

The Dance Hall and Its Victims . 

107 

XIII 

Picnicking Near Timberline 

. 116 

XIV 

Snelle’s Last Blast 

127 

XV 

Dan Meets His Mother 

. 134 

XVI 

A Forest Fire and What Followed 

138 

XVII 

Harmon Meets Disappointment 

. 144 

XVIII 

Jennings in Chicago 

150 

XIX 

In the Hospital 

. 161 

XX 

John Scott Meets Death 

166 

XXI 

One Question Leads to Another 

. 173 

XXII 

A Trip on Snow Shoes . 

186 

XXIII 

Famine Threatens Silverado 

. 196 

XXIV 

Harmon Meets Bruin 

201 

XXV 

An Unhappy Marriage 

. 206 

XXVI 

The Miners’ Strike 

214 

XXVII 

Dan Strikes a Bonanza 

. 224 

XXVIII 

Closing Scenes . 

235 



Our minds are as different as our faces; we are all 
travelling to one destination — happiness; hut few are 
going by the same road. —Colton. 


LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 


The Silver Camp ( Frontispiece) . 

FACING 

PAGE 

. 1 

Horse Gulch . : 

64 

Lizard Head .... 

. 116 

Hermosa Divide 

186 

















• tm X 












SILVERADO 

The Story of a Colorado Mining Town 


CHAPTER I 

THE DELAYED STAGE AND MAIL. 

1 

It was an evening in January of the year 188—, 
and a typical Rocky Mountain snow storm had been 
raging all day over that region of southwestern 
Colorado known as San Juan, sometimes called the 
“ Switzerland of America.” In the little mountain 
mining town of Silverado a group of men, mostly 
miners, were gathered in and around the postoffice, 
waiting for the arrival of the daily stage which 
brought passengers and mail from the nearest rail¬ 
road station, thirty-five miles distant. 

Already the stage was more than two hours over¬ 
due, and fears were expressed that it would not get 
in that night, for there were no signs of an abate¬ 
ment of the storm. The sun had gone down behind 
the great mountain west of the town, and it was 
fast growing dark. One after another the men left 
for their homes and cabins, some shaking their 
heads in silence, and fearing for the safety of those 
who might happen to be on the stage that day. The 
storm continued to rage with relentless fury, and 



2 


SILVERADO 


it would not have been safe to venture very far 
from camp that night. When the clock in the post- 
office indicated the hour of nine, the place was 
deserted, safe for the postmaster and his assistant, 
who still had hopes that the stage would get in 
before midnight. 

This same night there was gathered in a room 
on the floor above the postoffice a small group of 
men engaged in social conversation and discussion of 
topics most in the minds of the people of the town. 
It was the editorial office of the Silverado Record, 
and during the long winter nights it had become, 
by the consent of the editor, the forum of the town. 
Back of the office was the mechanical department of 
the Record , with a row of stands and type cases, an 
imposing stone, a Washington handpress and a 
small jobber. In the editorial and business office, 
known as the “den,” there was a long table on 
which the editor prepared his “copy,” kept his 
books and made out his monthly bills for subscrip¬ 
tions and advertising. This table also served for 
folding and wrapping the paper as it came off the 
press. There were eight or ten chairs, and a min¬ 
eral cabinet, holding specimens of ore from the 
mines and prospects of the district, stood in one 
corner. On the wall hung a large picture of 
Benjamin Franklin and one of a smaller size of the 
State’s congressman, bearing the inscription “ the 
Red-Headed Rooster of the Rockies;” pasted here 
and there were cartoons cut from Judge , Puck and 
Harper's Weekly. 

In this “den” there were wont to gather men 
of congenial spirits though of varied occupations, 


SILVERADO 


3 


sometimes to play whist or cribbage, sometimes to 
discuss political and economic problems, and fre¬ 
quently to talk over the latest “ strike ” and the 
prospects of the camp. This evening the subject of 
their talk naturally turned to the terrible snow 
storm and the delayed stage and mail. All the old- 
timers were agreed that this was the worst snow 
storm known since the white man had invaded 
these mountains. 

“ I tell you, boys, the stage will not get in to¬ 
night. It will do well if it gets as far as Perley’s.” 

The speaker was the editor of the Record , a typi¬ 
cal Western youth of that day, about twenty-five 
years of age, with a strong, muscular frame, a 
bright face, firm mouth and chin, rather large nose 
and clear blue eyes. He was known throughout 
the camp as the “ kid editor,” but his full Christian 
name was Frank Harmon. 

“ I dunno, kit,” spoke up one of the group; ‘‘Ferg 
vill never stop at Perley’s. He is no quitter; I haf 
known him to come through all kinds of storms, 
and I’ll bet a half interest in the Little Sallie that 
he’ll get in before midnight.” 

This was the view taken of the situation by John 
Snelle, an aged miner with a bearded face and hair 
tinged with gray, falling in tangled masses on his 
coat collar, he pronounced each word slowly and 
with a slight foreign accent. He was much the 
oldest of the group, and had been admitted to this 
somewhat select circle because of his remarkable 
talent as a zither player. Because of his really 
wonderful playing on this instrument he was fre¬ 
quently called upon to play at social gatherings and 


4 


SILVERADO 


public entertainments. “ Uncle John” Snelle, as he 
was familiarly known, had been prospecting and 
mining in and around Silverado since the camp was 
first discovered in ’80; in fact, he had located one 
of the first claims in Horse Gulch, where most of 
his mines and prospects were situated. He was 
known as the most hopeful and optimistic old soul 
in the whole San Juan region. It was mainly on 
the “ Little Sallie ” that he staked his hopes of some 
day becoming a millionaire. 

There was a brief silence after Snelle had spoken, 
no one seeming willing to take the proffered bet; 
then a tall, angular framed man of middle age, with 
reddish hair and wearing glasses, rose to his feet. 
This was Fred (known as “Sandy”) Campbell, the 
assayer of the camp. 

“Well, boys,” he said, “stage or no stage, I’m 
going to my cabin. In the morning, I think, some 
of us will have to start out and look for Ferg, for 
I’m afraid he’s stranded somewhere between here 
and Wasson’s. In a storm like this there’s no tell¬ 
ing what has happened to him, the mail and the 
mules. I hope he has no women aboard.” 

“ But unfortunately he has, and that’s just what’s 
worrying me,” said Ned Wakefield, a dealer in 
miner’s supplies and known for his good nature and 
liberality. He had “grub staked” many a miner 
and there was not a more cheerful and popular man 
in camp. But now his face wore a worried look as 
he continued : “ My wife is in all probability on that 
stage, and with her is one of our schoolma’ams who 
went to Denver for Christmas. With two women 
aboard, Ferg will have his hands full if he attempts 


SILVERADO 


5 


to come through. I tell you, boys, I am almost in 
the notion to start out to-night, and see if the stage 
can be located between here and the Forks. I could 
help to break the road for the mules, maybe. Is 
there any one of you fellows who will venture out 
with me? I’m a little shaky to go alone.” 

No one answered. There was not a coward among 
them—not a man who would not at any time have 
risked his life to save that of another; yet there 
was no response to Ned’s appeal. 

The men looked at each other as if waiting for 
some one to speak. At last Harmon rose from his 
chair, walked to the window and looked out into 
the stormy darkness, then turned to the men before 
him and said: 

4 ‘ I wouldn’t hesitate a minute to go if I thought 
I could do any good; but I think it would be foolish 
to start out at this hour of night. You know there 
are some old cabins half way between Perley’s and 
the Forks, and if Ferg finds he can’t make it, I have 
an idea that he will camp there to-night. We had 
better wait till morning, Fred.” 

‘‘The kit is right, I think,” said Snelle. “ Wile 
my heart teats for the ladies and I would gladly 
gif my life for them, my old head tells me not to 
go chasing snowflakes in a night like this. But 
don’t worry, Ned; I haf been out with Ferg myself, 
and I still believe he will bring the women through. 
If he is not in by daylight, I will go with you.” 

2 

The Silverado stage had left Rocklin at the usual 
early morning hour, and had not traveled many 


i 


6 


SILVERADO 


miles when a snow storm broke in the mountains. 
Ferg Thomas, the driver, was an old-timer and had 
faced many mountain storms, winter and summer, 
and when he reached the top of the Hermosa range 
he saw that he and his passengers were, as he 
expressed it, “in for a rough day.'’ As for himself, 
he feared nothing, but it happened that he had 
two lady passengers and but one man—and he a 
“tenderfoot,” as he judged him to be—as the day 
wore on he became more and more concerned about 
his ability to reach Silverado until very late in the 
night, and maybe he would have to stop at the half¬ 
way house in Hermosa Park. 

The storm became more and more severe, and at 
times he could hardly see ten feet ahead of him. 
The people within the coach did not fully realize 
their situation, though the darkness and intense 
cold made them somewhat uncomfortable. 

The wind came from the southwest and, except 
where the road made a sharp turn around a hill, 
beat sharply in the driver’s face. It seemed to him 
as if he were amidst the very clouds or in a bound¬ 
less, swirling sea of snow. 

The snow grew deeper and deeper on the ground, 
and it became more difficult to keep the mules in 
the road. At times in places where the snow had 
drifted, the animals began to show signs of giving 
out. The driver knew what that meant; he knew 
that when a mule once gets discouraged and gives 
up there is no way to urge it on. “A horse will stay 
with you to the last ditch,” he said to himself, “but a 
mule when discouraged will give up and lie down 
in its tracks and die.” 


SILVERADO 


7 


It was three o’clock in the afternoon when the 
stage and its occupants reached Perley Wasson’s, 
the “half-way house.’’ The time table told them 
they should have arrived there at the noon hour. 
Here it was customary to change horses (or mules) 
while the passengers had lunch. The house was a 
long log cabin with four compartments, each con¬ 
nected with a door and all having an entrance from 
the outside. A narrow platform extended in front 
of the entire length of the cabin. At one end of 
this platform was a large dry-goods box bearing the 
sign “ Postoffice,’’ with numbered pigeon holes for 
deposit of letters and newspapers that might be 
sent to the patrons of the “office,’’ a few ranchers 
and miners who received their U. S. mail here. In 
Uncle Sam’s directory it was designated as the 
Hermosa postoffice, but to all the inhabitants of this 
region it was known as Perley Wasson’s. It was 
situated in a little valley or “park’’ between two 
ranges of mountains and was the home of a rancher 
and stockman. 

Never were travelers more glad to reach a stop¬ 
ping place and shelter than were Mrs. Wakefield and 
Miss Reed on this stormy day, as they stepped from 
the stage coach and entered the dining room of the 
log cabin. Since leaving Rocklin they had had for 
a traveling companion a young man from Chicago, 
who, as he had informed them, was going to Silver¬ 
ado to work on the Record. His name was Edward 
Jennings, and he followed them into the house, 
looking as tired and travel-worn as they did, yet 
seeming to be in good spirits. 

Within the cabin the travelers found a big fire- 


8 


SILVERADO 


place, where large pine logs were giving out intense 
heat, and it was not long before they were made 
comfortable and invited by Mrs. Wasson to be 
seated at the table. The food served was plain but 
wholesome and well cooked, and the guests seemed 
to fully enjoy their lunch, especially the big cups of 
hot coffee. 

As they were seated at the table—the two ladies 
opposite the young man—they had the first oppor¬ 
tunity to study each other’s faces. Mrs. Wakefield, 
in her own mind, pronounced the young tenderfoot 
handsome, while Miss Reed thought he had a bright, 
intellectual face. As Jennings now and then looked 
up from his plate, while they were discussing the 
probability of their reaching their destination that 
night, his eyes met those of the young woman, and 
a slight color came to her cheeks when she spoke. 
“A very pretty girl,” he thought, and wondered 
what had brought her to this far-away country. 

“ Have you lived long in these mountains?” be 
ventured to ask. 

“ Oh, yes,” she replied; “ I was born among these 
hills—that is, on the other side of the range. My 
father was one of the pioneers of Gilpin county. 
My home is in Denver.” 

“ Miss Reed is one of the teachers in our school,” 
said Mrs. Wakefield. ‘‘And you are—?” 

‘‘Oh, I’m what you call a ‘tenderfoot”—just a 
poor printer, and have come West to seek my for¬ 
tune, as the saying is.” 

“ You are surely learning what our mountain 
storms are. But, really, this storm is unusually 
severe,” said Miss Reed. “ All the old-timers will 


SILVERADO 9 

tell you that.” There was a twinkle in her eyes as 
she spoke. 

“With such pleasant company all the way,” re¬ 
plied the young man, smiling, “ I really don’t mind 
the storm. You know we sometimes have regular 
blizzards in Chicago, and let me tell you, when the 
winds sweeps down through the ‘canyons’ between 
the tall buildings it fairly lifts one off his feet.” 

Their conversation was here interrupted by the 
entrance of the stage driver, who seated himself at 
one end of the table. His weather-beaten face had 
a somewhat worried look. He hurriedly ate his 
lunch without saying a word; then went out. 

A tall, large-boned man now came in. It was 
Perley Wasson, the owner of the place. He was of 
a type frequently met with in the mountains among 
ranchers and cowboys. Originally from the moun¬ 
tains of North Carolina, he had lived in the Rockies 
since the days when ‘‘Pike’s Peak or bust” had 
been the cry. He spoke with the soft twang of the 
Southland. He appeared to know Mrs. Wakefield, 
for he looked at her when he said: 

“ I’m after tellin’ yo’ folks that I’m consarned 
about yo’ goin’ any further’n this stawm. I’m 
mighty feared Ferg cain’t make it to Silverado to¬ 
night. The afternoon is well nigh gone, and there’s 
fifteen miles yet to go. We kin make room for 
yo’uns heah to-night; and in the mawnin’ yo’ kin go 
on to town.” 

“ My husband will be worried to death if I don’t 
get home to-night,” said Mrs. Wakefield. “ He 
knows that I’m on this stage.” 


10 


SILVERADO 


“ Better he should worry than yo’ perish in this 
stawm.” 

The stage driver now appeared in the doorway. 

“ Everything is ready to go on/’ he said. “ I 
think we can make it by nine or ten o’clock.” 

“Yo’re takin’ mighty desperate chances, Ferg, 
with yo’r passengers.” 

“ Well, there’s the mail, an’ I’ve got to take that 
through anyway or be reported. It’s for these 
folks to say whether they will go on with me 
or not.” 

“ I’ll risk it if the ladies want to go,” said Jen¬ 
nings, turning to Miss Reed. 

“ I’m a day late now,” she said. “ This is Satur¬ 
day and school begins Monday. I’ll go if Mrs. 
Wakefield wants to go.” 

“ I’m with you,” she replied. 

‘‘All aboard, then,” cried the driver. 

And so Ferg again faced the storm and the three 
travelers proceeded on their way. With fresh 
mules they made fairly good progress the first hour 
or two. When they got to the top of the Bear 
Creek range there was a break in the clouds, and 
the driver hoped that a clear sky might yet lead 
them safely into Silverado. But when they entered 
the canyon of the Dolores, which led up to their 
destination, darkness was followed by a fresh out¬ 
break of snowfall, heavier, it seemed, than ever. 
Here and there the snow had drifted and filled the 
cuts of the graded mountain road, and the mules 
had to break their way through. It was only by a 
frequent use of the whip that the driver kept the 


SILVERADO 11 

mules from lying down in the snow. Ferg knew 
if the animals did, all would be lost. 

The passengers did not realize their peril, but 
Ferg knew that to stop now would mean to perish, 
for it was turning colder as the night wore on. 
Ferg determined to reach Silverado that night or 
perish in the attempt. He had gone through sim¬ 
ilar experiences before. In some places he got 
down from his seat and broke the road in front 
of the mules. Fortunately he was perfectly familiar 
with every turn in the road, or he could never have 
kept on the grade. How long he and the mules 
could hold out under such conditions was becoming 
a very serious problem. 

The mules were ready to give up; his heart sank 
within him. 

At last, as they rounded a turn in the road, he 
saw ahead of him a light—a faint glimmer through 
the storm—then another. Yes, they were the lights 
of Silverado! 

“Thank God!’’ he cried out to the people in the 
coach; “we shall get there soon.’’ 

3 

The Seth Thomas clock in the Record office had 
struck eleven, and the place was deserted, save for 
Harmon, who was debating with himself whether 
to go to bed or wait a while longer for the possible 
arrival of the mail. He picked up one of the several 
exchanges on the table and glanced at the headlines. 
He heard a noise downstairs, and jumped to his 
feet. He opened the door, and as he started to 
descend the stairway, he heard a loud cry: 

“Hurray! the stage is in at last!’’ 


CHAPTER II 

THE SILVER CAMP. 

1 

Silverado was one of the several mining towns 
of Southwestern Colorado which dated their history 
back to the ’70s and ’80s. This region was an un¬ 
known and trackless country until 1860, most of it 
being embraced within the Ute Indian reservation. 
In the summer of that year one Captain Charles 
Baker, described as a “restless adventurer who was 
always in search of something new,” with six other 
adventurous men, made a prospecting trip into the 
then terra incognito along the San Juan river. The 
party found little gold, and after suffering many 
hardships, was forced by the savage and unfriendly 
Indians, then sole possessors of the country, to get 
back over the range. Time and again in the ’60s 
and ’70s other parties of gold seekers and prospect¬ 
ors traversed through these rugged mountains and 
over the vast plateaus. Captain Baker finally met 
a tragic death at the hands of the savage Utes. 

In the year 1873 part of this Ute reservation was 
ceded by the Indians to the United States and then 
opened to settlement. Miners and prospectors im¬ 
mediately began rushing into this new mining 
territory, and Siverado and other mining towns 
sprang up in the canyons and mountain valleys. 
Because of their isolated situation, with no outlets 
except by crude and rough trails, the development 


SILVERADO 


13 


of this rich mineral section was necessarily slow 
until the advent of a narrow-guage railroad in the 
year 1882. 

At the time of our story the San Juan had become 
known not only as a great and wonderful mining 
country, but as one of the most scenic regions of 
the world; hence its name—“the Switzerland of 
America.” Its numerous mountain peaks, ranging 
in elevation from 12,000 to over 14,000 feet, are 
snow capped nearly the year round; many crystal 
streams rush down the mountain sides and through 
deep canyons and gorges until they reach the San 
Juan river, whose waters finally flow into the Colo¬ 
rado and thence empty into the Gulf of California. 

The mountain slopes were thickly covered with 
rock pine, fir, Engelman and blue spruce, and the 
higher elevations with quaking aspen. Thickets of 
indigenous shrubs grew along the streams and at 
the edges of the little valleys or “ parks,” as they 
were generally called. 

This elevated, picturesque region is pre-eminently 
a mining country, for agriculture is out of the 
question in this latitude at an altitude of 8,000 feet, 
at which most of the camps were situated. Though 
nearly every known mineral is found within its 
rock-ribbed mountains, silver and gold, with some 
lead and copper, were the principal outputs from the 
smelters and reduction works in operation at the 
time of this story. Silver was found in almost 
every gulch and on every mountain, giving reason 
for the name, “Silver San Juan,” then frequently 
given to the country. 

Silverado was situated at the base of three high 


14 


SILVERADO 


mountains in a little valley or plateau, just below a 
point where two tributary streams emptied into 
the Dolores river; one of these was known as Silver 
Creek and flowed down through the gorge which 
separated Ute Mountain from Telescope Mountain, 
and the other stream came down a canyon known 
as Horse Gulch, separating Prospect Mountain 
from “ Nigger Baby Hill,” on the north of which 
flowed the Dolores river. Trails led up these 
gulches and canyons, and around the mountain 
slopes, to the various mines and prospects, some of 
which were located well up near timber line. 

2 

It was the morning of the fourth day after his 
arrival in Silverado when Ed Jennings was shown 
over the camp by his new employer, Frank Harmon, 
and introduced to the business men along the main 
street. Up to this time the storm had continued, 
almost without cessation, day and night, and the 
snow now lay over four feet deep on the ground. 
There had been no stage or mail into the town since 
the night of his arrival. There was neither tele, 
graph nor telephone connection, hence communica¬ 
tion with the outside world was entirely shut off. 

To Jennings, accustomed to the busy scenes of an 
eastern city, it seemed as if he had been transferred 
to some other world, and he began thinking that it 
would be some task to get out a newspaper in a 
place like this and under conditions as they now 
appeared to him. But Harmon assured him that, 
although they might be short of foreign news for a 
time, there would be plenty of local “stories” and 


SILVERADO 15 

mining items to fill the paper, and as for editorials, 
they could draw on their imagination for them. 

The two young men, although widely different in 
temperament as well as in looks, had already be¬ 
come fast friends, and it seemed, as Harmon put it, 
that they “had known each other since they were 
kids.’’ Already it had been agreed between them 
that Jennings was to become a full partner with 
Harmon in the publication of the Record. 

Harmon was impulsive, quick tempered, and 
fearless to a degree that would be called reckless. 
Jennings, on the other hand, was cautious and 
thoughtful, slower to act but none the less coura¬ 
geous. Both were fine specimens of the young 
American manhood of the West at that time—active, 
energetic, brave and ambitious. 

In an exchange of confidences Harmon had learned 
that Jennings was the son of a Methodist minister; 
that his father had died when he was about to enter 
college, which loss had thrown him on his own re¬ 
sources. In order to support his mother and him¬ 
self, he had gone to work in a printing office, 
attending night school at the same time. While he 
had thus struggled to supply the material wants of 
life, he had not, like many others similarly situated, 
neglected his mind. His mother, an educated and 
cultured woman, had been his great help and in¬ 
spiration. Thus when he reached maturity study 
had broadened his mind, reflection had sharpened 
his intellect, and observation was continually en¬ 
larging his understanding. While he had pored 
over books, he had not permitted himself to become 
a mere “ book worm,” but had learned to mix and 


16 


SILVERADO 


mingle with all classes of society. Leaving his 
mother in Chicago, he had come West, like thou¬ 
sands of others, to seek fame and fortune. 

Harmon was born in Iowa, but had come to 
Colorado when a mere boy, his parents having set¬ 
tled in the Arkansas valley near what is now the city 
of Pueblo. There he had learned the printer’s 
trade, and had worked on several newspapers in 
southwestern Colorado before starting the Record 
in Silverado two years ago, when the camp con¬ 
sisted of only a few miners’ cabins. Reared on the 
frontier, he possessed the adventurous and fearless 
spirit of the early pioneer. Brought up in an en¬ 
vironment widely different from that of Jennings’ 
early surroundings, it was to be expected that 
Harmon’s views on social and moral questions were 
somewhat at variance from those of his associate. 
Jennings had a deep religious conviction, while 
Harmon’s views on religion were ultra liberal. 

But the two young men held some things in com¬ 
mon. Both had a strong sense of right and wrong, 
and were ever ready to champion what they con¬ 
sidered a righteous cause. Their little newspaper, 
though classed among the obscure country weeklies, 
became known over the State as a.wide-awake, 
fearless journal and was frequently quoted in the 
newspapers of the larger towns. 

3 

The business section of Silverado, like all mining 
towns of that day, was largely made up of saloons, 
gambling houses and dance halls, with a “red light’’ 
district adjoining on a back street. There were 


SILVERADO 17 

of course some stores of general merchandise and 
miners’ supplies; also restaurants and hotels. 

One of the well-known establishments was the 
“ Beanery,” a combination of saloon, eating place 
and gambling hall. It was here that the two news¬ 
paper men finally found themselves that morning 
after making the rounds of the business section. 

The “ Beanery ” occupied a large room, affording 
a general meeting place for the miners when they 
came down from the mines. There was a long bar 
where all kinds of drinks were served, and in the 
rear was a lunch counter, the rest of the space be¬ 
ing occupied with reading and writing tables and 
gambling devises, including faro, roulette, keno and 
poker tables. 

The proprietor was a “ do wn-east ” Yankee named 
Bill Bean, shrewed, sharp and suave. He had the 
knack of making himself popular with every miner 
and prospector in the district; hence his place had 
become what might be termed the club house of 
the town. Bean was a man of more than ordinary 
intelligence and education, with a degree of culture 
that made Jennings wonder why a man so gifted 
should be found here; but later he learned that he 
was in this business simply because of the money 
there was in it. 

In fact, Jennings had not been in Silverado long 
when it dawned upon him that the impelling motive 
of all who struggled in this out-of-the-way mining 
camp—enduring hardships, delving in the moun¬ 
tains for silver and gold, selling goods or drinks, 
gambling, or giving their life to sin and shame (as 
in the case of the women of the red-light district) 


18 


SILVERADO 


—was a quest for money. Apparently all, from 
high to low, from strong to weak, were in a great 
chase after the almighty dollar. 

Well, after all, thought Jennings, were they any 
different from the thousands upon thousands in the 
large eastern cities and industrial centers who 
struggle in the maelstrom of modern business and 
industry. Here in the so-called wild west there 
was more freedom and less pretension of being 
Christian and civilized; everything was done in the 
open, and Sin did not wear silken veils or parade in - 
tinsel garments. The “ girls ” who frequented the 
dance halls did not pretend to be anything above 
what they were; there was no back-door entrance 
to the gambling halls or to the houses of sin and 
shame. The man or woman who chose the path of 
sin was not lured into it by any false or glittering 
promises. Mammon was the only god, and nearly 
everybody was frank enough to admit it. Not that 
virtue and honor were not respected, but vice did 
not hide itself behind screened doors. 

A Catholic priest and Protestant missionary had 
visited the place two or three times, but so far there 
had been no attempt to establish a church. “ This 
must be wicked place,” was Jennings’ first conclu¬ 
sion when he learned this fact, but as he became 
better acquainted with the town and its people he 
found that it was no worse morally than places he 
knew where churches reared their steeples into 
the sky. He observed that the people of Silverado 
in general were just ordinary folk, with the same 
weaknesses, the same virtues, the same ideals and 
the same hopes as those of other towns. 


SILVERADO 


19 


What impressed Jennings most was the air of 
freedom that seemed to pervade every place. There 
were no “ verboten ” signs. Everybody appeared 
to do much as he pleased, so long as he did not in¬ 
fringe on the rights of others. Officers of the law 
there were to arrest those who stepped beyond 
what was considered just and right. 

There seemed to be equal opportunity for all, for 
neither land nor industry had yet been monopolized. 
No mines had been patented, and those that had 
proved unprofitable and been abandoned for others 
to take up and try for better results. 

4 

Such was the place in which the young printer 
from Chicago found himself and such were his im¬ 
pressions after he had exchanged a few words that 
morning with the proprietor of the “ Beanery.” He 
and Harmon were about to leave the place and re¬ 
turn to their office when a crowd of excited miners 
entered. Some news for the paper, was their first 
thought, and Harmon had his note book and pencil 
out of his pocket in an instant. 

“ There’s been a snowslide up at the Emma!” ex¬ 
claimed one of the men. “Some of the miners are 
buried deep in the snow!” 

Immediately all drinking and gambling stopped; 
it seemed as if a dark cloud had passed over the 
place, for every face wore a sad and serious look. 
Jennings noticed it and thought, even these rough 
miners have a heart, and sympathy and love have 
not entirely gone out of their hearts. 

The news of the disaster carried with it an appeal 


20 


SILVERADO 


for help, and a score or more of men at once arose 
and volunteered to go to the rescue of those who 
had been buried alive in the avalanche. 

Harmon and Jennings were among those who 
offered to go, but Harmon insisted that his friend 
was yet too much of a tenderfoot to tackle a job 
like that, so he was left to go back to the office, while 
Harmon went with the crowd of miners up the trail 
that led to the Emma mine. 

It was found that a huge slide had come down the 
mountain some time in the night, carried one of 
the cabins in which the miners were asleep down 
the gulch several hundred feet and completely 
buried it under the snow. 

To locate the spot where the cabin was buried 
was no easy task, for the snow was probably from 
ten to fifteen feet deep in the gulch where the slide 
had stopped. Then there was danger of other 
slides in that vicinity, for the mountain was steep 
and many of the trees had been cut down for tim¬ 
bers for the mines. The avalanche had come down 
with terriffic force, carrying everything with it in 
its path—rocks, earth and trees—making a clean 
sweep down the mountain side, and where it had 
stopped the snow was packed in a solid, hard mass. 

After reaching the place, the crowd of recuers at 
once set to work to find the cabin, digging deep 
trenches here and there, and listening for cries or 
the sound of voices of those who were buried, having 
hopes that they might yet be alive. 

On and on they worked, until the sun indicated 
that the afternoon was nearly gone. So far their 
work had been without results, if the cabin was 


SILVERADO 21 

not found before night came on, all hope of saving 
any lives would be gone. 

“Listen, boys!” shouted Harmon suddenly, hold¬ 
ing his shovel up in the air. “ I heard a groan.” 

Immediately everybody stopped work and lis¬ 
tened, and some of the men rushed to the spot where 
Harmon was standing. 

“There! Didn’t you hear that faint moan? It 
comes from right below me here.” 

Instantly every man hurried to the spot and shov¬ 
els were moving the snow as if a machine had been 
set in motion. Soon someone struck what proved 
to be a log, and then cried out: 

“ We have found the cabin, boys!” 

And so it proved to be, or rather what was left 
of it; for the roof was crushed in and the logs 
twisted out of place in a wrecked mass. 

Never did men work harder or with greater zea! 
than did this group of miners for the next half hour 
or so. At last their labors were rewarded. Packed 
in the snow, between logs, bunks and tables, one 
after another of the buried miners was found. But 
the rescue had come too late, for all except one, the 
youngest of the six, were dead. Dan Ratteck, from 
whom probably the groan heard had come, was 
still breathing. The fresh air and proper manipu¬ 
lation soon brought him back to consciousness. He 
sat up and looked around him as one just awakened 
from a dream. 

“ Where am I, and what has happened?” 

Harmon, who knew the young miner, briefly ex¬ 
plained to him the situation and helped him to a 
cabin some distance down the gulch. 


22 


SILVERADO 


A rude sled was constructed from the logs and 
boards of the wrecked cabin, and upon this the 
bodies of the dead miners were laid and transported 
down the trail to town. 

It was well into the night when the party of res¬ 
cuers returned to Silverado, and when it became 
generally known the next morning that five miners 
had lost their lives, a gloom of sadness spread over 
the camp, although the dead had no relatives there. 
In fact, nothing was known about their antecedents, 
and it was for the miners’ union to see that they 
were given a decent burial. 

The disaster furnished the Record with a big news 
story, and Harmon wrote it up in his usual lucid 
and sympathetic style. 

Young Rattek was regarded as the most lucky 
man in camp, having so narrowly escaped death. 
Everybody said he could thank the editor for saving 
his life, and Harmon became the hero of the day. 

When it was learned that Jennings was a rather 
pious fellow, he was called upon to conduct the 
funeral services. 

Thus events tended to bring the young newspaper 
men into prominence before the people of the camp, 
and their paper became more and more popular 
with the miners. As the weeks passed a marked 
improvement was noticed in the Record , and “that 
young literary chap from Chicago ” was given the 
credit. 


CHAPTER III 

IN THE “ RECORD ” OFFICE. 

1 

A week or more had passed and Jennings was now 
fully initiated into his work in connection with the 
Record as compositor, assistant editor and manager. 
Harmon attended to most of the outside work— 
securing advertisements and locals, and picking up 
mining and news items, leaving the larger part of 
the inside office work for his new associate. An 
office boy or “devil” manipulated the roller on 
press day, ran errands, and set up “ pi ” when not 
otherwise employed. The three constituted the 
office force, and things seemed to run very smoothly, 
the paper appearing regularly every Thursday 
evening. 

2 


One afternoon Jennings was seated alone at 
the table in the office, looking over some proofs 
that the “ devil ” had just taken on the hand press. 
He had read well down the column of the first sheet 
when he heard the sound of light footsteps, and 
looking up he saw the form of a young woman 
standing in the half-open doorway, clad in heavy 
wraps, with a sweet, bright face partly hidden by 
furs, and eyes looking inquiringly around the place. 

“May I come in?’’ inquired the visitor. 

“ Most assuredly,” Jennings answered. He arose 


24 


SILVERADO 


to his feet and when his eyes met those of the caller 
he at once recognized her. 

“Miss Reed! Be seated, please,” said the young 
man, recovering from the surprise of his unexpected 
visitor, for it was seldom that ladies called at the 
print shop. 

After a moment’s pause he continued: “It may 
seem strange to ycpi, but I was just thinking about 
you and the song, ‘ Lead Kindly Light,’ that you 
sang so sweetly at the funeral of the poor miners.” 

“Indeed?” she said, with just a little tremor in 
her voice. “ I thank you for the compliment, which 
I hardly deserve. As you know, I am only a school 
teacher and have had but little training in singing. 
But to return the compliment, I want to congratu¬ 
late you on the splendid funeral address you made 
at the same time.” 

“Thank you, Miss Reed; but I was also thinking 
and wondering why one with your talents should 
be found in this out-of-the-world place—wondering 
if you were just like the rest of the folk here, sim¬ 
ply ‘chasing fortune,’ or, in other words, working 
for the love of the almighty dollar, rather than for 
the service you might render society by the instruc¬ 
tion you are giving the children placed under your 
care. Then I thought, no; school teachers, as a 
rule, are not paid enough for the service they ren¬ 
der—they must love their work.” 

“I plead guilty of loving money just like every¬ 
body else—yet, not altogether. While I love my 
work for the work’s sake, yet I must admit that 
the salary is a great desideratum. If there were 
no money reward in connection with the work, I 


SILVERADO 


25 


would not be here. But is it not so with all who 
must work? You know, Mr. Jennings, that in the 
struggle for existence, under the present order of 
things, we cannot leave the dollar out of consid¬ 
eration. We are all so dependent upon its use.” 

“That is true, and therefore the problem is, not 
how can we abolish the dollar, but how can we 
change or improve the present social and industrial 
order so as to make it a little easier for the great 
majority to share more equally in the distribution 
of the dollar.” 

“ I would not attempt to answer so deep a ques¬ 
tion as that, Mr. Jennings; nor do I feel able to 
discuss it with you. I have not given much thought 
to social or political economy. The children under 
my care are mostly in the primary grades.” 

“ Yes, I understand, and I really did not intend to 
lead you off in a discussion like this. You will for¬ 
give me? You came here for some other purpose?” 

“Yes,” replied the young lady, smiling; “and you 
almost made me forget the purpose of my call.” 
Then after a moment’s pause she continued: “I came 
to tell you or Mr. Harmon about one of my pupils, 
thinking possibly you could help me or advise me 
what to do in the matter. You probably have heard 
of John Snelle, who lives with his granddaughter 
some miles up Horse Gulch. Well, Sallie, who is 
one of the brightest and sweetest of girls, has been 
attending school regularly until about a week ago, 
when she stopped coming. I am somewhat worried 
about the girl, and fear that she might be sick or 
that some disaster has befallen her and the grand¬ 
father. You know, there have been so many snow- 


26 


SILVERADO 


slides lately. Every day I have heard reports of 
miners coming to town, fearing to remain up at the 
mines on account of the danger of slides.” 

“ Yes, that is true, and Horse Gulch is no safer 
from slides than other places. I have never seen 
the girl or the old miner, but Harmon has told me 
what a queer, optimistic old fellow he is—always 
just at the point of ‘ striking it rich,’ as he calls it. 
Harmon may have seen Snelle in town within the 
last few days. At any rate, I will tell him about 
the situation when he comes in, and I am sure he 
will do all he can to find out if the girl and her 
grandfather are safe.” 

“ Thank you. Let us hope that nothing has hap¬ 
pened to them ; but I shall feel easier when I know 
that they are all right.” 

The young lady arose to go, and Jennings followed 
her to the door. Then with a “good-bye” and a 
smile they parted. 

“Ruby Reed,” murmured Jennings to himself; 
“ a gem indeed, and hidden in these mountains.” 

He seemed lost in thought for a moment, then 
resumed his seat at the table and picked up the 
proof-sheets where he had left them when inter¬ 
rupted, and started to read again; but somehow he 
could not concentrate his mind on the work before 
him. Again and again he found himself thinking of 
the young woman who had just cadled, in spite of 
his efforts to turn his mind as well as his eyes on 
the printed columns. 

Rising to his feet, he said, almost aloud to him¬ 
self : “ I will let this rest for a while—until I can 
get my mind working right.” 


SILVERADO 


27 


3 

When Harmon returned to the office he found 
Jennings glancing over a newspaper. 

“ Well, old boy,” was his greeting; ‘‘how are 
they coming?” 

“ Oh, I had a lady caller while you were out, and 
she started me thinking of—of things outside of 
the shop.” 

“ A lady caller,” repeated Harmon, with a grin 
on his face ; “ and who was she, may I ask ? I hope 
you haven’t been making goo-goo eyes at any of 
my girls.” 

“ I don’t know whether you call her your girl or 
not, but she really called to see you, and enlist your 
help in a matter that seems to be very near to her 
heart.” 

“ That’s interesting. I am just the good brother 
boy to help her. Do tell me who she was, and 
what’s her trouble.” 

“ Well, to make a long story short, Sallie Snelle 
hasn’t been at school for a week, and the teacher 
fears the girl is sick, or that a snowslide might have 
come down Horse Gulch and buried the old miner 
and her.” 

‘‘Ah, it was the schoolma’am who called? I hope 
you were not smitten, for I confess that I am just a 
little bit ‘gone’ on her myself. The devil would be 
to pay if we both fall for the same girl.” 

“ Don’t worry; I long since made up my mind to 
never let any woman break my heart—at least, not 
for—a while. I wouldn’t think of marrying the 
best woman in the world.” 


28 


SILVERADO 


“A confirmed bachelor, eh? Well, don’t be too 
sure, pard. And don’t get too chummy with the 
school teacher. She’ll get you, if you do.” 

“ No danger,” said Jennings, after a pause. “But, 
to get down to business, what can we do to relieve 
the young lady’s mind in reference to the Snelle 
girl? Do you think anything could have happened 
to her and the old man?” 

“ Well, there’s no telling. The thing to do is 
to find out. Let’s get the paper off to-night and 
ready for the mail, and to-morrow I’ll take you 
up Horse Gulch to Snelle’s cabin and introduce you 
to the girl and the old man. The girl is a beauty, 
as pure and innocent as a mountain columbine, and 
I’m half in love with her. She can sing like a bird f 
and the old man lives and works for her, every 
day hoping he will strike it so he can send her away 
to school when she gets a little older. It’s quite a 
trip up there now. We’ll have to go on snowshoes, 
maybe; but you can learn how to use them. I’ll 
show you how.” 

“All right; I’m with you.” 

That night, together with the office “ devil,” they 
worked until after midnight, when they had the 
Record off the press, folded and ready for mailing. 


CHAPTER IV 

A VISIT TO SNELLE’S CABIN. 

1 

Morning came, and shortly after breakfast the 
two editors might have been seen on skis headed for 
Horse Gulch, Jennings with a long pole in his hands 
to balance himself. It was a new experience for 
him, and at first he found it difficult to keep up 
with his companion. 

Fresh snow had fallen in the night, which made 
ski ing more difficult than on old, compact snow. 
The morning was bright and clear, with a sharp ? 
cold wind blowing from the northwest. Far to the 
southeast the sun was just peering over the moun¬ 
tains. 

They soon reached the outskirts of the town, and 
then turned westward into Horse Gulch. Harmon 
led the way, and traveling on snowshoes seemed 
easy for him but Jennings found it harder work 
than he had anticipated. There was no sign of 
any road or trail, but Harmon knew the way, and 
after a time they were well up the gulch, with the 
high, snow-clad mountains looking down upon them 
from every side. Here and there were groups of 
blue spruce, standing like silent sentinels, their 
branches bending over with great loads of snow. 
Here, thought Jennings, was a scene such as some 
poet had described : 


30 


SILVERADO 


“The splendor of Silence—of snow jewelled 
hills and of ice.” 

On and on they went, Harmon some two or three 
hundred yards in the lead. Now and then he would 
stop in order to allow his companion to catch up 
with him. 

Jennings had been told that the distance to the 
Snelle cabin was about three miles from town, but 
to him it seemed that they had already gone five or 
six miles. Their general course was up-hill, but 
now and then, in crossing a small gulch, they would 
“ski” down the incline at a rapid speed to the 
bottom, then zig zag up the opposite side. This 
was real sport for Harmon, but not so for Jennings, 
who several times lost his skis and found himself 
standing on his head in the snow when he reached 
the bottom of the incline. Harmon would laugh 
and help his friend recover his skis. 

Harmon, a short distance ahead, had just reached 
the top of a knoll, when he stopped and turned back 
as if about to speak to his companion. 

Then, suddenly, they heard a noise like that of 
distant thunder, followed by a rumbling sound like 
that of an earthquake. Looking up the gulch to 
their left they saw from whence the noise came. 
The whole mountain seemed to be moving down¬ 
ward in a mighty mass. 

“Look!” cried Harmon. “There’s a snowslide 
coming down the gulch, and it’s not far from 
Snelle’s cabin!” 

2 . 

On a “bench” of the mountain side and near 
where a tributary gulch joined with Horse Gulch, 


SILVERADO 


31 


the log cabin of John Snelle, partly hidden among 
a group of Colorado blue spruce, had stood since 
built by the owner two years ago. Some six hun¬ 
dred yards above the cabin the several mining 
claims forming the Snelle group were located. Up¬ 
on these claims the old miner had labored hard and 
hopefully for more than two years, ever expecting 
to “strike it rich.” 

But the one claim upon which his greatest hopes 
were centered was the “ Little Sallie.” The out¬ 
croppings of this vein had been discovered by 
Snelle, and specimens of the ere had assayed well 
up in the thousands of dollars per ton. To cut this 
vein at some depth, he had gone down the mountain 
a thousand feet and started a tunnel on which he 
had worked over a year, expecting to cut the vein 
in due time. 

In summer time he had done assessment work for 
other claim owners in the district in order to “grub 
stake” himself for the winter. In this way he had 
been able to earn enough to buy powder, tools and 
provisions. During the winter season he seldom 
came to town. His grandchild, Sallie, and a big 
Maltese cat were his only companions in this lonely 
mountain retreat. During the long winter eve¬ 
nings, when not reading or playing checkers, Sallie 
would sing to him while he played on his zither, an 
instrument he had learned to play when a boy in 
the “old country.” 

3 

On the morning when Harmon and Jennings were 
trying to reach the Snelle place, a look into the 
cabin would have revealed Sallie alone, with the 


32 


SILVERADO 


Maltese cat lying asleep near the stove. The girl 
was busy with the housework, singing to herself 
some song learned in school, apparently happy and 
wholly unconcerned about the great, great world 
far, far beyond the mountains. She was not even 
dreaming of the possibility of having any visitors 
that morning. There were no miners working in 
the gulch above, and none had passed that way for 
many weeks. 

Grandpa had gone up to the mine at his usual 
hour in the morning, and now Sallie was thinking 
of preparing lunch for him. The cat suddenly awoke 
with a startled cry, and ran off in one corner, its 
eyes glowing with fear. 

“ What’s the matter, Becky?” said the girl, notic¬ 
ing the cat’s strange action. 

The animal responded with a low cry, when sud¬ 
denly a rumbling noise like thunder was heard. 
The ground beneath the cabin began to shake, like in 
a tremor. 

Sallie had been in the mountains long enough to 
know what all this meant. She rushed to the door 
and looked up the gulch toward the mine, when she 
saw a great avalanche coming down the mountain, 
sweeping everything in its way. The ground be¬ 
neath her now fairly trembled, and she hurriedly 
shut the door and fell upon her knees, expecting the 
cabin to be soon carried away by the moving mass 
of snow. 

“ Oh, God!” she cried aloud, “ save us !” 

The cat snuggled up against her feet with a low 
“ me-ow,’’ as if to repeat her prayer. 

The rumbling now sounded as if farther away 


SILVERADO 


33 


and finally it ceaseJ. The girl arose and again went 
to the door, looked out and saw that the slide had 
passed by the cabin, missing it about fifty feet. She 
breathed a sigh of relief and looked up into the sky, 
her grateful heart offering thanks to the Almighty 
for saving her life. Then looking up the gulch she 
saw the path of the slide, probably a hundred yards 
wide, reaching up to near the top of the mountain. 

Her first thought was of Grandpa, seeing that 
the slide had passed near or over the mouth of the 
tunnel. Was he safe up there in the mine, or had 
the slide filled the entrance of the tunnel ? If he 
chanced to be underground at the time, he was safe; 
otherwise, he might have been carried away. Her 
first impulse was to climb up to the mine, but think¬ 
ing there might be some danger of another slide, 
she decided to wait until it was time for him to 
come down to his lunch. She re-entered the cabin, 
and at once began preparing the meal. 

4 

The little alarm clock that stood on a shelf in the 
corner told Sallie that it was half-past eleven, when 
she heard a knock at the door. 

Grandpa seldom knocked, so she was not a little 
startled. Before she had fully recovered her com¬ 
posure there came another knock—a little louder it 
sounded this time. She hesitated a moment, then 
went to the door and opened it. 

Outside, there stood Harmon and Jennings, with 
their skis leaning against the cabin. They looked 
somewhat fatigued, but their faces were red from 
exposure to the keen mountain wind. 


34 


SILVERADO 


Sallie at once recognized Harmon. 

“ How do you do, Mr. Harmon,” she said with a 
smile, her cheeks coloring. 

“ Have we taken you by surprise? Maybe you 
think we came down on the slide?” said Harmon, 
and without waiting for an answer, continued: 
“ This is my friend, Mr. Jennings, Miss Snelle.” 

Sallie bowed and invited the young men to come 
into the cabin. 

‘‘You had a narrow escape, didn’t you?” said 
Harmon when they were seated. “ When we saw 
the slide coming down the mountain we feared that 
you would be carried away. Where is your grand¬ 
father, Sallie?” 

“ Oh, he’s up at the mine ; but I’m looking for 
him almost any minute,” replied the girl. ‘‘You 
are just in time for lunch.” 

While Harmon was talking, Jennings was taking 
a survey of the room. It was his first visit to a 
miner’s cabin, and he was interested in the scene. 
A small cookstove stood near the center of the 
room ; there was a cupboard in one corner, a table 
up against the wall, and a smaller table in another 
corner that served as a wash stand, with a small 
mirror hanging above it. The walls were covered 
with a thin white cloth, and a few colored litho¬ 
graphs were tacked up here and there. A single 
photograph (enlarged) of a strikingly pretty young 
woman, in a gilded frame, occupied a place above 
the larger table. This room evidently served as 
kitchen, dining room and living room. A curtain 
divided this part of the cabin from the other end, 
which was used for sleeping apartments. Humble 


SILVERADO 


35 


and poor it seemed to Jennings, but it looked clean. 
This girl, he thought, must have learned something 
about housekeeping before she came here. 

He wondered about the girl—^whose child was 
she, and how came she to be here with an old grand¬ 
father, buried, as it were, in these mountains and 
deprived of the social and cultural advantages that 
should be the heritage of every girl of her age. 
There must be some special reason for her being 
here ; the grandfather could have left her back 
east while he sought to find his fortune in these 
mountains. This was no place for a girl of her age, 
living as she did alone with an aged grandparent. 
Pretty? Yes, very. Age? He guessed about 
seventeen. Tall, almost fully developed as a woman; 
a picture of perfect health; a pretty mouth and a 
well rounded chin; long dark hair and large, brown 
eyes. “ Another mountain gem,” he thought. 

Here was an uncultured, simple girl, wholly un¬ 
conscious of her beauty. Simple—yes; but, reflected 
Jennings, is not simplicity the crowning jewel of 
all virtues ? All great and good things are simple 
in their elements. Simplicity makes the great 
nobler and lifts the obscure to places of eminence ; 
it is the bright charm of innocent childhood and the 
radiant gem of the old and learned. 

“ Ed,” said Harmon, arousing Jennings from his 
musings; “ it’s up to you to tell Miss Sallie why we 
came up here to-day. No doubt she has been won¬ 
dering what’s our business. 1 know from the way 
she looked when she saw us standing out there with 
our snow shoes. Tell your story, Ed.” 

Jennings then related the visit of Miss Reed to 


26 


SILVERADO 


the printing office, and how she had expressed an 
anxiety about the safety of Sallie, owing to her 
absence from school. 

“Well of all things!” exclaimed Sallie when he 
had finished. “Miss Reed is certainly the best 
friend I have outside of Grandpa. But you gentle¬ 
men have surely put yourselves out on my account. 
How shall I thank you ? And after you have come 
all the way up here on snowshoes, you will know 
without my telling you, why I have not gone to 
school. Giandpa would not let me take the chances 
so long as there was danger of snowslides.” 

“ I think your grandpa has acted very wisely in 
the matter,” said Jennings. “ I’m sure I would not 
want to make the trip every day for anything.” 

“By the way,” said Harmon, looking at his 
watch, “isn’t about time for Grandpa to be down 
from the mine ? It is now half-past twelve.” 

“ Yes, he ought to be here soon,” replied Sallie. 

“ Let’s take a walk up that way,” suggested Jen¬ 
nings. “ I would like to look into the mine; haven’t 
ever been inside one.” 

“ I’ll go you,” said Harmon, as both men arose to 
their feet. 

Sallie followed them to the door and pointed the 
way up the snow-beaten trail leading to the mine. 

5 

The trail zig-zagged up the mountain, and soon 
they came to the point where the snowslide had 
crossed it. Looking up toward the place where 
Harmon knew the mine to be (for he had been here 
before), he saw that the entrance to the tunnel was 
filled with snow. 


SILVERADO 


37 


“ Look !” he cried, “the slide must have filled up 
the mouth of the tunnel, and Snelle is shut up in 
there. We must go back at once and get shovels 
and dig him out.” 

Returning to the cabin, they procured shovels and 
started back toward the mine, Sallie following in 
their trail. 

Harmon’s surmise proved to be correct. The 
entrance to the mine was filled with a mass of 
packed snow, almost like ice, to a depth of from ten 
to fifteen feet. 

Both men at once set to work with a will cutting 
a trench through the snow, and Sallie watched 
them eagerly for a while. Then a thought came to 
her suddenly. 

“ You men are tired and hungry,” she said, “and 
I will run down and bring you some lunch.” 

“A thoughtful girl,” remarked Jennings as she 
disappeared down the trail. 

She soon returned with some sandwitches and a 
lunch-pail full of hot coffee. 

Their hunger appeased, the young men resumed 
work with renewed vigor. 

Two hours or more had passed when they heard 
a sound coming from within the mine. Evidently 
Snelle was trying to dig himself out. 

At last they broke through the pack of snow. 

Snelle came out looking rather pale and bewil¬ 
dered. Sallie rushed to his side, threw her arms 
around his neck and cried in her girlish joy: 

“ Oh, Grandpa, I love you !” 

The old miner stared at the two men as if in a 
dream. Their presence seemed to confuse him. 


38 


SILVERADO 


Finally he seemed to recover himself, and said in 
a husky voice : 

“ Frank Harmon, my dear boy, how came you 
here ? I cannot understand. You boys haf saved 
my life, and I shall not forget it. I was not ready 
to pass over the range, for Sallie needs me yet 
awile. I cannot do it now, but I shall reward you 
when I cut the Little Sallie vein. You haf done me 
and Sallie a great favor, and I am very grateful.” 

‘‘That’s all right, Uncle John,” said Harmon; 
“we’re glad to have been here to help you out. 
Take a drink of this coffee that Sallie made, and 
when we get back to the cabin we’ll tell you how 
we happened to be in Horse Gulch this morning.” 


CHAPTER V 

A SCENE IN THE BEANERY, AND WHAT FOLLOWED. 

1 

Nearly two months have passed since Harmon 
and his partner made their eventful trip to John 
Snelle’s cabin. Up to this time there had been snow 
storm after snow storm, and Silverado had become 
entirely isolated from the outside world. It had 
been an unusually severe winter throughout the 
whole mountain region, and the snowfall, especially 
on the western slope, exceeded all former records. 
A little letter mail had been brought in on snow- 
shoes a few times by a big Norwegian who had 
ventured over the range even through the storms. 
Then one day this brave Norseman was caught in a 
fierce storm on top of the range, lost his way evi. 
dently in the blinding snow, gave out, fell and was 
finally buried beneath twenty feet of snow. It was 
not until late in August of the second summer there¬ 
after that his body was found, the U. S. mail sack 
still strapped to his back. 

Because of the deep snow there had been a gen¬ 
eral suspension of work at the mines, and most of 
the miners had come to town. The ever-present 
danger of snowslides, too, had driven the men from 
their work. This had made lively business for the 
saloons and gambling houses, where the miners 
congregated day and night, the professional gam¬ 
blers reaping a rich harvest. 


40 


SILVERADO ' 


When signs of the approach of spring finally be¬ 
gan to appear and mine operations were resumed, 
the miners went back to work, most of them broke, 
their money having passed to the pockets of the 
“ gentry of the cloth.” 

But the miners were good losers, and like other 
people who are fleeced and exploited by those who 
are given the privilege or monopoly to exploit 
them, they rarely complained of their bad luck. It 
was part of the game of chasing after the almighty 
dollar, they seemed to think, that some should lose 
and others win. Having become used to seeing 
gambling practiced openly and without any inter¬ 
ference of the law, they had concluded that there 
was nothing wrong in it. Not until men began to 
see the injustice as well as the wickedness of gam¬ 
bling was any effort made to stop it by law. 

2 

It was an evening after the Rceord had made its 
weekly appearance when the editors were together 
making the rounds of the saloons and gambling 
halls to see what was going on. It was in these 
places they met the prospectors and miners and 
learned of the new discoveries and developments in 
the district. In those days the saloon was a sort of 
club house and mining exchange combined ; in fact, 
there was no other place in the average mining 
camp for men to congregate. 

Jennings never gambled, but Harmon occasion¬ 
ally “bucked the tiger,” sometimes winning, but 
more frequently losing. They had stepped into the 
“Beanery,” and seeing that there was a big faro 


SILVERADO 


41 


game going on, Harmon was again tempted to try 
his luck. He had just seated himself at the faro 
table and called for some “ chips,” when suddenly 
there was a commotion in one section of the room 
where a poker game was in progress, and as he 
turned his face in that direction he heard an oath, 
and the next instant there was the click of a pistol, 
then the report of its discharge, followed by the 
cry: “ I’m shot!” 

Instantly, as if touched by an electric button, nearly 
every man in the room was on his feet. Some men 
rushed to the door leading to the street, others 
crowded towards the table from whence the shot 
had been fired. Harmon and Jennings were among 
the latter, and pushing their way to the table they 
saw a man stretched out on the floor, pale as in 
death, his breast steeped in blood. 

‘‘Run for a doctor, someone!” cried Jennings 
when he saw r what had happened ; ‘‘and stand back 
and give the man some air.” 

He bent down over the man on the floor, and 
raised his head on his knee. The man was still 
breathing, but the glassy stare of his eyes told that 
his life was fast ebbing away. 

In a little while the doctor arrived on the scene, 
but the man was dead and beyond human help. For 
him the game of life was closed and all its chances 
were gone. 

The place had become as quiet as a morgue. The 
swearing, profanity and loud laughter of a few 
minutes before had ceased, observed Jennings, and 
he thought how universal is the fear of death, and 
in its presence man stands awed and helpless. 


42 


SILVERADO 


In giving attention to the dying man, no one 
seemed to have thought of the murderer, and dur¬ 
ing the excitement caused by the shooting he had 
made his escape from the place unnoticed. Now 
everyone was asking: “ Who is he, and where did 
he go ?” 

Harmon, who knew nearly everybody in the 
town, recognized the dead man as “Poker Pete,” 
a professional gambler, and he learned from one of 
the men who had been in the game that a miner 
named Jack Roberts had done the shooting. It was 
said that Roberts had caught the gambler in the 
act of slipping in a “cold deck,” and immediately 
had jumped to his feet. The gambler had made a 
move with his hand as if to reach for his pistol, but 
the miner had been too quick for him. It was also 
learned that trouble had been brewing between the 
two men for some time on account of one of the 
women of the red-light district, who had deserted 
the gambler as her paramour and taken up with 
the miner. 

Up to this time Roberts had been considered a 
sort of harmless, good-natured fellow—a little 
noisy at times when under the influence of liquor, 
but never getting into any serious trouble ; hence 
there was a general expression of surprise when it 
was reported that he had shot and killed the gam¬ 
bler. It was but another story of where gambling 
and wicked women may lead a man not otherwise 
criminally inclined. 

Roberts had escaped through the back door, fol¬ 
lowed by his “ bunkie,” a mere boy named Bert 
Wilkins, whom he had befriended and supported 


SILVERADO 


43 


through the winter. As the two were running 
down the street they were met by the town marshal, 
who ordered them to stop. Roberts again drew his 
gun and fired twice at the officer. The marshal 
staggered and fell, and when a crowd had gathered 
on the scene they found the officer dead and the 
murderer out of sight. 

Though it was now about midnight the news of 
the killing of the town marshal spread rapidly, and 
the whole town was aroused with excitement as 
well as indignation over the murder. There was 
talk of lynching the murderer or murderers, for 
young Wilkins was charged with being an accom¬ 
plice. At any rate, he had been seen with Roberts 
in the “ Beanery,” and the two were thought to 
have escaped together. 

A search for the fugitives was at once instituted 
by a crowd of men* led by the deputy marshal, and 
Roberts’ cabin across the river was visited first. 
Other places were searched, but when morning came 
their hiding place had not been found. 

A meeting of miners and business men was called 
at the town hall, and a posse comitatus of ten was 
organized to search the town and miners’ cabins 
throughout the region. The first day’s search 
proved fruitless. On the second day, however, it 
was learned that Roberts and his companion had 
stopped at Perley Wasson’s, the night after the 
murder, presumably making their way to the near¬ 
est railroad station. 

The nearest telegraph station was at Rocklin, and 
from this point messages were sent fo officers of 


44 


SILVERADO 


such other towns as could be reached by wire to 
be on the lookout for the fugitives. 

Five days later the news came that they had been 
apprehended at a small station on the narrow-gauge 
railroad in New Mexico and were being held there, 
awaiting the arrival of the sheriff and other officers 
from Silverado. 


3 

It was late one dark night when the sheriff and 
posse returned to Silverado with their two prisoners 
and locked them up in the town jail. Fearing that 
they might be taken out and lynched, the sheriff 
placed a guard around the jail, and his fears were 
not unwarranted ; for a little after midnight of the 
following day a mob gathered around the place and 
overpowered the guards, took the prisoners out of 
jail and led them to a group of pine trees just out¬ 
side of town. 

Roberts was game to the last and said not a word, 
but Wilkins plead with the mob, declaring he was 
innocent of any crime, having run away with Jack 
because the latter had befriended him and cared for 
him when he was sick and broke. 

“ When Jack got into trouble,” he said with tears 
in his eyes, “ I would have been a coward to have 
left him, after all he had done for me. He has been 
like a brother to me, and nursed me when I was 
sick. And, so help me God, I never killed anybody!” 

“ But you were with Jack when the marshal was 
killed,” said the leader of the mob in a gruff voice. 
“ Birds of a feather flock together, and by — you’ll 
have to swing together!” 


SILVERADO 


45 

There was dead silence for a few moments. Even 
in that rough mob there were hearts that were 
touched by the pitiful pleadings of the boy, and for 
a brief time his fate seemed to hang in the balance. 
But there was none beside himself to plead his case. 

The ropes had been adjusted to the trees and the 
noose was ready for each of its victims. Finally 
some one cried in a gruff voice : 

“ Up with both of them !” 

4 

Next morning when the rays of the sun fell in 
that canyon they revealed two bodies hanging from 
the limbs of two pine trees. It was a gruesome 
sight not soon to be forgotten by those who hap¬ 
pened to pass that way. 

When it was reported that Roberts had been 
hanged, the general view of the people of Silverado 
was that he had met a just punishment for his 
crimes. The shooting of the gambler might have 
been justified, but the killing of the town marshal 
could only be looked upon as cold-blooded murder. 

But when it was learned that young Wilkins had 
met the same fate as Roberts, there were some who 
thought the vigilantes had gone a little too far in 
the inforcement of law and order, for there was no 
evidence that the boy had done any of the shooting. 

Frank Harmon, who had known the boy before 
coming to Silverado, was greatly wrought up over 
his sad ending. He had known his father and the 
family on the eastern slope, and now he thought of 
a mother’s broken heart when she should learn of 
the lynching of her boy. 


46 


SILVERADO 


Harmon had never endorsed lynching in any case, 
and now he proposed to denounce the hanging of 
Wilkins in the Record. 

When Jennings learned the state of Harmon’s 
mind and saw the proof of the article that his asso¬ 
ciate had himself set up in type, he cautioned him 
not to be too severe on the lynchers, for he knew 
what the feeling had been among the citizens with 
reference to Roberts. It had been whispered to him 
that among the vigilantes there had been some of 
the leading business men, and to denounce lynching 
would be to invite the wrath of practically the whole 
community. 

But Harmon declared he was not afraid of any 
mob, and he proposed to express his views in the 
paper regardless of what anybody else might think 
about it. He had signed his name to the article that 
he proposed to publish, so as to save Jennings from 
any responsibility in the matter. 

In the meantime the whole town was on the edge 
of expectancy, waiting for the appearance of the 
paper, it somehow having leaked out that Harmon 
was going to “ roast ” the vigilantes. 

“ He surely has lots of nerve if he dares to do it,” 
someone had remarked when the matter had been 
discussed by a group of miners in the “ Beanery.” 


CHAPTER VI 

HARMON DEFIES THE VIGILANTES. 

1 

The Record went to press Thursday evening as 
usual, and Friday morning it was in the hands of 
most of its local subscribers. The article denounc¬ 
ing the lynching of Wilkins in most scathing terms 
appeared on the first page with big head lines. 

Both editors staid in the office nearly all day, 
awaiting results. A few persons called that morn¬ 
ing and commended the stand taken by the paper, 
but when Harmon went out in the afternoon to 
solicit some new business he was greeted with an 
air of coldness such as he had never met with before 
in all his newspaper experience. The usual greet¬ 
ing, “ Hello, Frank,” was not for him that day, and 
he noticed a suspicious look in the eyes of some 
whom he met such as, he imagined, the condemned 
criminal meets. He began to feel that “something 
was in the air,” and returned to the office and told 
his associate of his observations. 

“ Well, Frank,” said Jennings, “you might have 
expected it. I have been told that some of the lead¬ 
ing citizens were in that mob, and they naturally 
feel pretty sore over what you said about them. 
We may be in for trouble, but now that the paper 
has taken a stand, let us not craw-fish one bit.” 

“Right you are,” was Harmon’s response; “I 
propose to stand pat on all I have said.” 


48 


SILVERADO 


The afternoon was well gone when a noise was 
heard on the stairway leading to the office, and a 
few minutes later there appeared in the doorway 
three men, all of whom were recognized by Harmon 
but unknown to Jennings. The former at once 
stepped out from in front of the “case” Where he 
was working to meet the visitors. The latter fol¬ 
lowed immediately behind him. Neither one spoke, 
but looked at the three men who stood at the door 
as much as to say : “ What is your pleasure ?” 

There was a moment of silence; then one of the 
visitors, a large, full-bearded man, evidently the 
spokesman, said: 

“ We’ve come as a committee from a number of 
citizens to demand that you retract what you said 
in the paper about the affair that took place the 
other night. You know what we mean. If you 
know what is good for your paper, you boys will 
do it in your next issue!” 

“ We’re not in the habit of taking anything back 
that we have said,” said Harmon, looking the man 
right in the eye. 

“ Well, in this case you had better do it. That’s 
all we’ve got to say.” 

Then without another word the three men de¬ 
parted. 

“Who are those men?” inquired Jennings when 
they were gone. 

“ That big fellow is a man who has been hanging 
around the camp for about a year. His name is 
Scott, and he calls himself a miner; but nobody ever 
heard of him doing an honest day’s work. A girl 
they call the ‘Goddess of Liberty’ is keeping him.” 


SILVERADO 


49 


“ A fine leader of a ‘ citizens’ committee!’ ” 

“ Yes, and I’m not afraid of any of his kind—fine 
bunch of stranglers they are!” 

2 

The next Friday morning there was a long line 
of people in front of the postoffice, waiting for the 
distribution of the Record It had been reported 
that the paper would apologize for what it had said 
about the lynchers the previous week, and every¬ 
body was curious to know what Harmon would 
have to say. 

A surprise was in store for the readers of the 
paper, for instead of retracting or apologizing, 
Harmon had added fuel to the fire. The paper again 
referred to the vigilantes as ‘‘red-handed murder¬ 
ers” and ‘‘midnight assassins.” Then it went on to 
say that ‘‘over in Pueblo there is a gray-haired 
mother who mourns the death of her only son—a 
boy who had never committed an offense against 
the law in his life—because a band of blood-thirsty 
stranglers had committed a dastardly crime against 
order and fair play,” the article closing with the 
following paragraph: 

‘‘We have not yet been able to get a complete 
list of the wretched band of stranglers, but when we 
do we shall publish their names to the world, and 
call upon the officers who are sworn to uphold the 
law and order in this county to mete out to them 
the punishment which is their due.” 

Before noon of that day the whole town was 
stirred up as it had never been stirred before, and 
groups of men were seen on the corners of the 


50 


SILVERADO 


main street and in front of the saloons, discussing: 
and commenting on the outcome of the Record's 
stand against the vigilantes. 

3 

About ten o’clock that night Harmon and his 
associate were seated in their office talking over the 
events of the past week and somewhat nervously 
awaiting future developments. 

“You certainly gave it to them pretty strong,’’ 
Jennings remarked. “ But we’ve got to see it 
through, and prepare for the worst. They may 
mob us, but it won’t do to show the white feather 
now. I think you have told the truth, and that’s 
just why it hurts.” 

“ Right you are,” was Harmon’s reply. “ I have 
called them and I am ready to show my hand.” 

Then they heard hurried footsteps on the stair¬ 
way, and their first thought was that another “com¬ 
mittee” was about to call on them. 

Shortly the door opened and before them stood 
Dan Rattek, the young miner who some months 
before had been rescued from death in a snowslide. 
He seemed to be somewhat excited and breathless. 

“Hello, Dan!” exclaimed Harmon; “what’s up?” 

After recovering his breath, Dan said in a low 
voice: “They’ve got it in for you, Frank, and I’ve 
come to tell you that you’d better be on your guard. 
I happened to be coming up the alley back of the 
‘ cooler,’ when I saw a bunch of men there and 
heard them talking in low voices. I knew some¬ 
thing was up, so I slipped around the corner of the 
crib and listened for a while, and I heard your name 


SILVERADO 


51 


mentioned. From what I could catch of what was 
said, they’re going to do something to you. I heard 
the words ‘rope’ and ‘tar and feathers.’ Then I 
came running up here to tell you. It’s all because 
you put that piece in the paper about Roberts and 
Wilkins’ neck-tie party. So I’ve come to warn you. 
If it hadn’t been for you, Frank, I’d be sleeping in 
the bone-yard now, and by the big josh they shan’t 
hurt you if I can prevent it!” 

“Thank you, Dan,’’ said Harmon, rising to his 
feet; “but I’m not afraid of them. Most of them are 
a bunch of yellow cowards.’’ 

“I know, but one man is no match for a whole 
mob,’’ replied the miner, at the same time drawing 
from his pocket a large Colt’s revolver. “ I’ll help 
defend you to the last. This old gun saved my life 
one night up in Georgetown. It’s a six-shooter, 
and when I used to tote it round they called me 
‘Six-Shooter Dan.’ ’’ 

“ I can’t imagine you lugging a gun like that, 
Dan,” said Harmon, smiling, “ and acting like a bad 
man. Why, you look as meek as a deacon.” 

“ Oh, I was just a kid then—I’ve reformed since, 
as the sky-pilot used to say.” 

“ Do you think, Dan,” said Jennings, “that the 
mob you speak of was planning to copie up here 
to-night ?” 

“ Dunno, but from what I heard, I think they are 
going to lay for Frank and take him by surprise, 
and that’s why I want him to take this gun. It’ll 
bore a hole through a three-inch plank, and don’t 
you forget it!” 

Harmon, somewhat disturbed over what he had 


52 


SILVERADO 


heard from Dan, walked back and forth in the room, 
trying to decide what was best to do. At last he 
decided to surprise the mob. There was a Win¬ 
chester rifle and a double-barreled shot-gun in the 
back room, and these he brought out, handing the 
rifle to Jennings. 

“You stay here, boys, and hold the fort,” he said, 
picking up the revolver that Dan had laid on the 
table and holding the shot-gun in his other hand; 
“ and I’ll go out and see what they’re up to.” 

“ Let me go with you, Frank,” said Dan. 

“ No, you stay with Ed.” 

In an instant and before Jennings had time to 
caution him, Harmon had disappeared down the 
stairway and out on the dimly-lighted street. 

After a few moments Dan broke the silence that 
followed Harmon’s departure. “ It seems cowardly 
for us to stay here,” he said, “and let Frank face 
that mob alone.” 

“ Yes,” replied Jennings, “but Frank feels that 
it is his fight and his alone, and I believe he is equal 
to the situation. If there is anything in this world, 
or the next, that he is afraid of, I don’t know what 
it can be.” 

After some consideration of the situation, the 
two young men decided that it would be unwise to 
follow Harmon and concluded to remain where they 
were until his return. 

4 

There was something in Dan’s open, honest face 
that attracted Jennings, and in the course of their 
conversation their hearts seemed to warm to each 


SILVERADO 


53 


other—that feeling between men which sometimes 
develops into life long friendship. Then it seemed 
to Jennings that Dan’s face reminded him of some¬ 
one he had met before, bat he could not recall the 
person or the place. When questioned about the 
matter, Dan said that so far as he knew he had no 
relatives living. 

“I was born and grew up in Georgetown,” he 
said, his clear blue eyes looking up into Jennings’ 
and revealing his Nordic ancestry. “ Like Topsy, 
I just ‘growed,’ for I never had a mother. An old 
Scandihovian grandmother took care of me for a 
while and taught me a few things, and when she 
died Dad took me to a miners’ boarding house. He 
was killed in a mine when I was about ten years old. 
I never had much of an education except what I 
picked up myself. I don’t know much about any¬ 
thing except mines and mining; but, believe me, I 
can tell any kind of rock found in these hills as well 
as any of your leather-legged experts from Heidel¬ 
berg can.” 


5 

After Harmon left the printing office he walked 
down the street towards the jail, but before he 
reached it he saw a crowd of about twenty men 
coming towards him. He stopped and waited their 
approach. 

“ Hello, Frank!” cried one of the crowd when 
they saw him, shot-gun in hand, standing on the 
board sidewalk. “ What’s the matter ?” 

“ Get in the middle of the street!” was the reply 
of the nervy editor, as he made ready to bring the 


54 


SILVERADO 


butt of the gun to his shoulder. “ Get there, every 
one of you, or I’ll fill you full of holes. You are 
not fit to walk on the same side of the street with 
me, and by the eternal you shan’t.” 

The crowd, being taken completely by surprise, 
stopped. After a few moments of consultation, the 
men seemed to think it wise to obey the command, 
all walking out into the middle of the street. 

‘‘And I want to tell you vigilantes,” continued 
Harmon, ‘‘that 1 am ready to back up every word 
I have said about you in the paper. I want you to 
know that I came to this camp and started a news¬ 
paper when there wasn’t anything here but a few 
prospect holes and a Chinese laundry. I’ve helped 
to make this town, and I propose to have something 
to say about how to maintain law and order. Go 
and get your guns and rope, and I’ll wait here half 
an hour for you to come back. After that you can 
find me and my partner in the Record office, any 
time to-night or to-morrow. Now, go !” 

The crowd sulkily walked away, murmuring some¬ 
thing about the “d— d nerve of the kid.” 

True to his word, Harmon waited there fully half 
an hour; but although the vigilantes had decided, 
as he afterwards learned, to wreck the printing 
office and drive its owners out of town or hang 
them, they did not return. Nor did they later in 
the night appear at the office, as the editors had 
fully expected them to do. 

A 


Every night after that the two newspaper men 
were well on their guard, and some of their friends, 


SILVERADO 


55 


including “Sandy” Campbell, Dan and Uncle Snelle, 
came to the office and were ready to help defend it 
against any attack. 

Days and nights passed, but the printing office was 
not molested. 

“Well,” said Snelle the day he started back to 
his mine, “ I think you boys haf won your fight 
already, and I am verry glad of it. As I haf said 
before, brain power with dee-termination will beat 
mere brute force efery time. So, use your head, 
my boys, and some day they will put your name in 
the cyclopedia.” Then, as he shook hands and said 
“ good-bye,” he added: 

“ Be of good cheer, boys, and we shall make some 
more winnings before we haf played this game of 
life out.” 

A few days later a committee of business men 
waited on the editors and asked them, for the good 
name of the town, not to carry out the threat to 
publish the names of the vigilantes. Harmon, feel¬ 
ing that he had won his fight for law and order, 
agreed to drop the matter and say nothing more 
about the lynching or the lynchers. 

The next week the Record was filled with new 
“ads,” and many new cash subscriptions poured 
into the office. 

“Someone has said that bravery never goes out 
of fashion,” remarked Campbell; “and Frank has 
demonstrated that real courage, even with the 
greatest odds, will win in the end.” 


CHAPTER VII 

AT THE “WHITE HOUSE” PARTY. 

1 

So far our story has dealt mainly with what may 
be called the rougher life of Silverado. But let not 
the reader think, because it was a typical mining 
camp of that day, that it was beyond the pale of 
what is usually called good society. The rougher 
class was no doubt in the majority, but there were 
many people of education and some degree of cul¬ 
ture in the little town. 

There were teas and parties, progressive euchre 
and Kensington clubs, and social gatherings and 
entertainments, including dances and receptions. 

The editors of the Record were invited to every 
social function, probably because the hosts liked to 
have their names in the paper. The presence of one 
of the editors gave assurance that there would be 
a “ write-up ” in the next paper about the affair. 
It devolved mostly on Jennings to act as society 
editor, and he soon observed that one delightful 
thing about so-called society in the mining town was 
that it was decidedly democratic, and that there was 
none of the snobbery he had seen in the eastern city. 
The most exclusive and would-be aristocrat did 
not dare to snub the common miner, because the man 
who to-day wore the overalls might to-morrow be¬ 
come a bonanza king. Then, too, many of the 


SILVERADO 


57 


mining men were college graduates who were here, 
like mostly everybody, for the sole purpose of 
“ making a stake.” 

So Jennings found here an atmosphere of good 
fellowship and, to a certain extent at least, he 
thought, the Christian doctrine of universal broth¬ 
erhood found an expression not so common in larger 
and old-settled communities. 

The ever-present and cheerful prospect of a gold 
and silver mining camp lent a fascination and inter¬ 
est to the business of mining not found to a like 
degree in other pursuits. Every time the miner 
” put in a shot,” he was inspired with the hope that 
it would open the door of wealth, fortune and lux¬ 
ury. That was why when a man began delving for 
the treasures of old Mother Earth, he seldom quit 
until he found the coveted riches or was himself 
called to mingle with the dust. 

2 

The number of spacious and pretty homes in Sil¬ 
verado was very limited, but many homes that had 
the rough exterior of a log cabin were marvels of 
neatness and good taste inside. The women of this 
frontier town seemed to delight in making their 
homes attractive, and knew how to entertain their 
guests in the most delightful manner. Yet this was 
not strange or surprising, for most of them had 
come from States east of the Rockies where they 
had been accustomed to pleasant surroundings, and 
their love of and desire for the beautiful had led 
them to modify in a great degree the otherwise 
coarse and rough life of the early pioneer. 


58 


SILVERADO 


There had been many parties and dances during 
the long winter, and now the season of social affairs 
was drawing to a close. For the purpose of this 
story, it is necessary to make special mention of 
only one of them. This was a progressive euchre 
party given by Mrs. Wakefield at her home, which 
was known as the “White House”—a name given 
to it not alone because it was painted white, but 
because it was the largest and most pretentious 
home in the town. Originally it had been built for 
an office and residence of a mining superintendent, 
but the present owner had turned it into a rooming 
and boarding house. 

Mrs. Wakefield was really the society leader of 
the place, and it was no small honor to be a guest 
at the White House. On the occasion of this party 
she seemed to delight in her attentions to the junior 
editor of the Record , as if he were the guest of 
honor. When refreshments were served she ar¬ 
ranged to have him sit next to Miss Reed. This, of 
course, caused Mrs. Grundy to look wise and whis¬ 
per something to the lady who sat next to her. The 
hostess had the reputation of being good at pairing 
off young people, and here was a chance of making 
a good match, thought Mrs. Grundy. They were 
“such nice young people,” she remarked. 

Harmon had been paired off with Sallie Snelle, 
who, together with her grandfather, had been in¬ 
vited to this party. 

During the evening Snelle had rendered several 
numbers on the zither, and Sallie had delighted the 
party by singing several of the then popular songs. 
Jennings was more than surprised to find musical 


SILVERADO 


59 


talent of so high an order in this small mining town, 
and remarked to Harmon that “if that girl could 
have a musical education, she would become world 
famous.” 

3 

After refreshments had been served, Jennings 
and Miss Reed were seated near the piano, and their 
conversation turned to the subject of music. 

“ Don’t you think, Mr. Jennings,” said Miss Reed, 
“that Miss Snelle has a remarkable voice for one 
untrained in music?” 

“ I certainly do,” he replied; “and 1 have been 
thinking what a pity it is that she can’t have the 
advantages of a musical education.” 

“ Well, Uncle John may strike it rich some day 
up there in his mine, and then he intends to take 
her to Europe to study, I understand.” 

“ Then I hope that he does strike it, and that 
soon. And by the way, he is somewhat of a musical 
genius himself on the zither. I have never heard 
anyone play on that instrument as well as he does.” 

“ Remarkable, I think. He must have learned to 
play when quite young and from a real master,” 
said Miss Reed. Then after a short pause, she con¬ 
tinued : “How have you enjoyed the evening?” 

“ Oh, immensely,” he replied, smiling; “I have not 
only been delightfully entertained but very greatly 
amazed.” 

“ Amazed?” 

“Yes; amazed to find so many talented and edu¬ 
cated people in a little mining camp and among the 
so-called ‘rough miners’ themselves. After coming 


60 


SILVERADO 


to this place I was first thrown mostly among the 
people on Main street, and you probably know from 
your own observations what they are.” 

“Yes, isn’t it too bad that there should be so 
many saloons and gambling places in a little town 
like this.” 

‘‘Yes, and I would like to expose them all—that 
is, fight them in the paper, and show what a menace 
they are to the town.” 

“ Why don’t you ?—you took such a brave stand 
against lynch law.” 

“ Well, Frank does not look upon some things as 
Ido. You know, he has lived in an environment 
like this nearly all his life, and takes gambling and 
drinking as a matter of course. Then there is the 
business side of it; our patronage—advertising and 
printing—comes largely from the saloons, and we 
are just like all other people in business—we are in 
it for the money we can make out of it. But, be¬ 
lieve me, wouldn’t I like to be free from the rule of 
the dollar !” 

“ Do you think there will ever come a time when 
the abominable liquor traffic will be prohibited all 
over our country ?” 

“ Yes, I do,” replied Jennings, thoughtfully, as if 
looking into the future. “ Of course there are 
those who would laugh at me if they heard me say 
it here in a Colorado mining town, but I predict 
that this State will be one of the first to go dry. I 
believe that the liquor business, like all other evils, 
will eventually destroy itself. The saloons are run¬ 
ning the government of this town, and Bill Bean 
tells the mayor and council what to do. Not satis- 


SILVERADO 


61 


fled to run their own business, they want to control 
the politics of the country. Some day the better 
class of people won’t stand for this. From a moral 
point of view the saloon is indefensible, but there 
will come a time when the economic side of it will 
be made clear to business men, and then it will be 
destroyed.” 

“ Oh, I hope your prophecy will come true!” 

His eyes glistening with emotion, Jennings con¬ 
tinued : ‘‘When I have seen these honest, stalwart 
miners—most of them in the prime of youth—not 
only wasting their earnings but ruining their lives 
because of the saloon, I have felt like Lincoln did 
about slavery : If I ever get a chance, I am going to 
hit the liquor traffic, and hit it hard!” 

Their conversation was interrupted just then by 
Harmon, who said with a smile, as he cast a side 
glance at Miss Reed : “ How serious you both look. 
What has happened ?” 

Before Jennings could answer Miss Reed spoke, 
saying: “ We have been discussing serious ques¬ 
tions, and strange as it may seem, Mr. Harmon, we 
find ourselves agreeing.” 

‘‘Fine ! That’s more than Ed and I do, that is— 
not always.” 

The next moment Harmon had disappeared in an¬ 
other room, and there was a brief lull in the con¬ 
versation as Jennings’ eyes rested on the floor. 
Looking up, he said in a somewhat hesitating voice: 
“ Miss Reed, will you think me rude if I ask you a 
question concerning yourself?” 

“ Why—” her cheeks coloring just a tint—‘‘No.” 

“ You may think me all too inquisitive if not rude 


62 


SILVERADO 


but I want to ask you for reasons which I hope I 
may sometime make plain to you: Have you a 
brother?” 

The color instantly vanished from Miss Reed’s 
face, and as she looked up into Jennings’ face he 
saw in her eyes an expression of sadness that he 
had not seen there before. 

“ No,” she said in a low voice; “ I had a brother, 
but he died or disappeared when I was a little girl.” 

“ You are not sure, then, that he is dead ?” 

“ No ; Mother really never knew. There is a long 
story, but—but, Mr. Jennings, 1 cannot tell it now.” 

“ You have told me all I wish to know at present. 
Perhaps I should not have asked you, but when you 
learn my reason you’ll forgive me. If you permit, 
I shall ask you more questions at another time. I 
am thinking that possibly your brother is still alive, 
and that some day I may help you find him.” 

The hour was now late, and the guests were be¬ 
ginning to leave. Seeing this, Jennings and Miss 
Reed arose and mingled with the crowd of leave- 
takers as they were saying 41 good-night ” to the 
host and hostess. 

When the house was emptied of its merry guests 
Miss Reed retired to her room, wondering what had 
prompted Jennings to ask the question about her 
long-lost brother. “For reasons which I hope I may 
sometime make plain to you,” kept ringing in her 
ears. What would her mother think? Why should 
this young man, a comparative stranger, be inter¬ 
ested in her family history ? She could not under¬ 
stand, and that night she dreamed that her brother, 
a tall, fair-haired young man, had been found, and 


SILVERADO 63 

she saw him walking arm-in-arm with her mother 
in front of their little home in Denver. 

4 

“ Ed,” said Harmon that night when the two 
were alone in their room, “you seem to be getting 
pretty solid with our schoolma’am. I had an eye 
on her myself, but I guess you’ve cut me out.” 

“Oh, we’re just friends. You know she’s the 
first woman I became acquainted with here—met 
her that day on the stage. She is exceptionally 
bright and sensible, and I enjoy her company.” 

“ Yep ; ‘exceptionally bright and sensible’—that’s 
a good start. I rather envy you, young fellow, but 
I’m not going to challenge you to a duel, if I do 
feel that I’m cut out. If you’ve lost your heart 
there, I shall get over my grief in time, and will 
say : ‘ God bless you, my children !’ ” 

“ Don’t you think it, Frank; my heart is fire proof 
against all the darts of Cupid. So long as my 
mother is living and I have her to help and support, 
I would not think of marrying the best girl on 
earth, as I have told you before, no matter how 
much 1 might think of her.” 

“ Don’t be too sure, Ed ; you may change your 
mind. I have thought the same way, but if a pretty 
girl like Ruby loved me, I’d surrender on the spot.” 

“ Maybe; but, to change the subject, kid, what do 
you know about that young miner, Dan ?” 

“ Oh, nothing much. I know he came here last 
summer with a bunch of Cornish miners from 
Georgetown. He must have been born in a mine, 
for the kid knows all about ore and minerals—can 


64 


SILVERADO 


tell ’em on sight. I have never asked him about his 
folks. Here, you know, people don’t say much 
about their people back East. And nobody cares 
whether you have any pedigree or not, if you have 
the pay rock to show.” 

“ He told me once that he never had a mother— 
‘just growed, like Topsy.’ ” 

‘‘Yes; but what’s made you interested in him?* 

“ Oh, nothing special; only there’s a young lady 
in this town who looks enough like him to be his 
sister.” 

“ That’s interesting. Who ?” 

“ Have you never noticed the resemblance—” 

«« \i _ >» 

JNo. 

“ Then I shall not tell you now.” 

“ What kind of a mystery story are you trying 
to unravel ? I’ve got a little clue to work on my¬ 
self that may develop into a story yet. Uncle 
Snelle told me a thing or two to-night that made me 
think he has something up his sleeve that he wants 
to tell me. I have often wondered why that old 
man and his grandchild happened to find their way 
to this camp.” 

“ 1 thought that very same thing the time we 
visited them at his cabin. We may get enough 
material cut cf all this to make a good story.” 

“ Strange how many people there are who have 
some mystery or other connected with their life.” 

“ Yes, truth is stranger than fiction, and there’s 
a story in every family, if we only knew it.” 



With the high snow-clad mountains looking down upon them from every side." (Pa^e 29.) 


















CHAPTER VlII 

SILVERADO EXPERIENCES A MINING BOOM 

1 

The snow was beginning to'disappear on the south 
side of the mountains, though in the deep, shady 
gorges and on the high mountain peaks it still lay 
in deep masses, glistening like a shimmering sheen 
in the bright light of the noonday sun and throwing 
a pale reflection from the moon at night. 

There were signs of the approach of spring. The 
mountain streams were swelling as they rushed 
down through the canyons and gorges. The burst¬ 
ing buds on trees and shrubs announced that old 
Mother Earth was awakening from her long frosty 
dream. The birds that had migrated south in the Fall 
were returning to build again their summer homes 
and rear another brood of their species. The morn¬ 
ing sun dispelled the frost and the air felt the magic 
touch of his life-giving power. 

Returning one day from one of the mines on Pros¬ 
pect Mountain, Harmon felt the buoyancy of the 
mountain air and said to himself, what a great and 
noble teacher is Mother Nature! And nowhere, he 
thought, is her lesson more impressive, or so beau¬ 
tiful and inspiring, as in the heart of the mountains. 
Here he might study her rules and laws with full 
freedom and without restraint, and if he but learn 
to follow and obey them he could not go far astray. 


GG 


SILVERADO 


If able to see and appreciate the beauty of Nature, 
he must feel with the poet that 

“ Each cloud-capped mountain is a holy altar ; 
An organ breathes in every grove ; 

And the full heart’s a Psalter, 

Rich in deep hymn of gratitude and love. ” 

The roads and trails to the mines that had been 
blocked with snow through the winter were being 
opened, and active preparations made to resume 
work in tunnels, shafts and stopes. There was the 
optimistic feeling everywhere that this was to be 
the most prosperous and busy season in the mining 
field ever known in the Silverado district. 

Several very rich strikes had been reported 
recently, and the news of these discoveries of 
large deposits of gold and silver soon spread far 
and wide through publication in the Denver news¬ 
papers. Then, too, a rise in the price of silver was 
stimulating mining in general. The coming sum¬ 
mer was therefore sure to witness a great influx of 
miners and prospectors into this promising and 
comparatively new mining field. 

2 

The first of June saw the pioneers realizing their 
long dream—the arrival of the expected mining 
boom. People were flocking into the camp from 
everywhere, coming by conveyances of every de¬ 
scription. Old weather-beaten prospectors who had 
tramped for many miles behind burros loaded with 
their tools, grub and blankets, came from distant 
mining camps by the hundreds, still chasing fickle 
fortune and hoping to discover here the bonanza 
they had been searching for, lo, these many years. . 


SILVERADO 


67 


In a month the population of Silverado had more 
than trebled. Buildings of every description were 
springing up as fast as material could be had and 
men found to do the work. New smelters and re¬ 
duction works of various kinds or processes to treat 
the ores that were being mined were in course of 
construction. Tents were pitched in every available 
space to provide lodging for the coming multitude. 
Prices doubled (n very commodity. The streets 
were filled with mule and ox-teams, bringing in 
merchandise and supplies and hauling out ore and 
bullion to the nearest railroad station. 

About the middle of July the boom was at its 
heighth. The saloons, gambling houses and dance 
halls were running in full blast, day and night, and 
reaping a rich harvest of money, sin and shame. 
Apparently Mammon was the chief god, and the 
devil delighted in his company. 

The mountains and hillsides for miles around the 
town had been staked out to mining claims regard¬ 
less of any discovery of ore or mineral veins. Pros¬ 
pect holes on which but a few days’ work had been 
done sold to unsophisticated fortune hunters for 
fabulous amounts. Mining companies sprang up 
like mushroons in a night, and stock promoters and 
gamblers were roping in the gullible and innocent 
investors. The very atmosphere seemed charged 
with the mining fever. Everybody, from the old- 
time miner to the last arrived tenderfoot, was in the 
wild chase after fortune, and every get*rich-quick 
scheme drew the money-mad populace like a swarm 
of flies around the proverbial molasses barrel. 

The publishers of the Record were swamped with 


63 


SILVERADO 


work and an additional printer or two had to be 
employed. Occasionally a tramp printer would find 
his way into camp and help out on press days. The 
old Washington hand-press had to be replaced by 
a rotary with a capacity of printing the largely 
increased circulation of the paper in less time, and 
to meet the competition of the new paper that had 
been started in camp. The papers containing the 
latest mining news were eagerly sought for by 
the restless, expectant readers. The boom forced 
the editors to lead a most strenuous life, and they 
had little time or thought to give to matters outside 
of the business of getting out their newspaper. 

3 

One day as Jennings was hurriedly leaving the 
office to go to lunch he was surprised to meet Dan, 
staggering along the street among the crowd, 
drunk and noisy. 

The young miner had recently sold one of his 
prospects for ten thousand dollars, and the posses¬ 
sion of so much money had turned his head and led 
him into every vice that was stalking openly and 
without restraint in the town. 

It was told of Dan that on several occasions, when 
under the influence of intoxicants, he had amused 
himself by emptying his pockets of silver and gold 
coins and scattering them in the street and watching 
the boys and girls scramble for them. 

“Hello, Ed, old sport,” cried Dan with a silly 
grin when he saw Jennings; “come an’ have some¬ 
thin’ wish your frien’ Six-shooter Dan. I’ve got 
money to throw to the birds, an’ there’sh lots more 


SILVERADO 69 

where this come from, and don’t you forget it!” 
holding out his hand full of coins. 

“ You come with me, instead,” said Jennings. 

“All right, ol’ boy; Where’sh Frank ?” 

“ Gone up Nigger Baby Hill to write up some 
mines—Bradley’s new strike.” 

“ Frank’s a good sport, but I like you, too, Ed.” 

Jennings led the way into the nearest restaurant, 
and soon they were seated at a table. The waitress 
appeared and repeated the bill of fare to each. Jen¬ 
nings gave his order and Dan grinned at the girl 
and said : “ Gimme same’sh me pard.” 

Dan talked in a loud voice and attracted the atten¬ 
tion of all the other guests in the place. Jennings 
learned that Dan had been up all night, gambling 
and drinking. The food seemed to sober him some, 
and when they arose from the table he appeared to 
be more steady on his feet and less active with his 
tongue. 

“ Now, Dan,” said Jennings when they were out 
in the street again, “ I want you to come with me 
to the office. I’ve got something to say to you.” 

“All right, pard; shoot your dye stuff.” 

4 

Upon their arrival at the office Dan seated himself 
and began looking over the several exchanges that 
were spread out upon the table, while Jennings 
slipped into the composing room to see how the 
“copy ” was holding out with the compositors, and 
when he returned he found Dan sound asleep. He 
did not disturb the sleeper, but quietly went to 
work preparing “copy ” for the printers. 


70 


SILVERADO 


An hour or more had passed when Dan awoke. 
Looking up at the editor, he said: “ Oh, I thought 
I was in the cooler. How did I get up here ?” 

“ I brought you here, Dan,” replied Jennings, 
and seeing that the young miner was now fairly 
sober, continued : ‘‘And now that we are here alone 
I want to ask you a question or two.” 

‘‘All right, fire away; so you don’t put my drunk 
in the paper or send me to jail.” 

“ Dan, have you ever had a sister ?” 

‘‘ Dunno ; sometimes it seems to me that way back 
there when I was a little kid I had one, but 1 guess 
she died or was lost. Dad never told me much 
about our family history.” 

“ Tell me what you know.” 

Dan was about to speak when the office “devil” 
appeared in the doorway and cried: “ Copy !” 

“ Tell the boys to set this up,” said Jennings, 
handing the boy some sheets of manuscript; “then 
they can throw in for the rest of the day.” Turn¬ 
ing to Dan when the boy had disappeared, he said: 
“ Well, go on.” 

“Well, 1 don’t know very much about why or 
how 1 came to be on this earth, but I know I was 
born in Georgetown—Dad told me that much. I can’t 
remember of ever having seen my mother. My dad 
was killed in Virginia City, Nevada. Some years 
after that I came back to Colorado and knocked 
around old Clear Creek and Gilpin until I came here. 
If you want to know about my dad, ask old Jack 
Ralli, a Cornishman who works at the Grand Union 
smelter— he knew my dad in Central City.” 

“ Dan, if you found out that you had a mother 


SILVERADO 71 

and sister living, would you try to quit drinking 
and gambling ?” 

“ I’d swear off right on the spot. But there’s 
nobody in the world who cares a darn whether I’m 
drunk or sober. But now that I’ve got somespon- 
dulix I’ve got lots o’ friends, anyhow. So what’s 
the diff.” 

“ Bat, whether you have mousy or not, I care. I 
want you to brace up and see if you can quit, and 
one of these days I think I’ll have a real surprise 
for you.” 

“ Oh, what’s the use? But to please you, I’ll try.” 

5 

It was late in the afternoon when Harmon re¬ 
turned to the office, tired and hungry, for he had 
spent the greater part of the day climbing over 
mountains from one mine or prospect to another 
and taking notes of the work being done. The next 
issue of the Record would contain a full account of 
his observations. 

“ Ed,” said Harmon that night when the two 
were alone in the office, “ what do you think Uncle 
Snelle has done ?” 

“ Can’t imagine—has he struck it at last?” 

“ Not yet, but he’s gone and given us a one-third 
interest in the Little Sallie. He told me some days 
ago that he was going to do it, and here is the deed 
all made out and acknowledged before a notary. 
You see, the old man thinks we saved his life last 
winter when we dug him out of the snow. ‘ I do 
this,’ he said to me, ‘to show my appreciation of 
your most timely asseestance.’ ” 


72 


SILVERADO 


“ Do you think it is worth anything to us ?” 

“ Well—can’t tell; to hear Uncle John talk, it is 
only a question of spending a little more money and 
doing a little more work to make the Sallie a real 
mine. Then there are some good mines above his 
claims—the Johnny Bull, for instance, which has 
shipped ore all the way to Swansea, Wales, and 
made it pay.” 

, “ We may be millionaires yet.” 

“ Yep. And the funny part is this: Snelle has it 
all figured out to a fine point, so we may not have 
to wait very long. This evening when he gave me 
the deed he said : ‘Frank, my boy, I haf yust ten 
feet and seven and a-hallef eenches more to go, und 
den I vill cut the vein! Oh, I haf a mine , Meester 
Harmon, and ven I strike that vein Sallie shall be 
given a musical education !’ ” 

“ That girl is surely a wonder. And say, Frank, 
I am surprised that you haven’t lost your heart on 
her long ago, for 1 think she is a good looker as 
well as a sweet singer.” 

“ I haven’t thought of her in that way—she’s just 
a kid yet.” 

Al Yes, but you’re quite a kid yourself.” 

“ That makes it all the more a sort of brotherly 
and sisterly feeling between us, you know. By the 
way, how’s the schoolma’am ?” 

“ Finest girl in the camp. And that reminds me 
that I’m to call on her this very evening,” replied 
Jennings, looking at his watch. A few minutes 
later he left the office. 

6 

Upon being ushered into the parlor of the White 


SILVERADO 


73 


House, Jennings found Miss Reed waiting for him. 
She received him graciously, and to him she seemed 
brighter and more vivacious than ever. Her face, 
always beaming and animated, on this occasion ap¬ 
peared extremely so. Her large blue eyes sparkled 
with cheerfulness and good humor as she bade him 
to be seated. 

After the usual greetings, he said: “You seem 
very happy to-night, Miss Reed. Good news ?” 

“ Yes, I’ve just heard from my mother, and what 
makes me glad is that she tells me she will come 
and spend the summer vacation with me here, in¬ 
stead of my going to Denver.” 

“ That’s fine. I hope she will enjoy her visit. The 
summers here are very delightful.” 

“Yes, many people come here and spend their 
vacation, camping, hunting and fishing. Over on 
the West Dolores, they tell me, trout fishing is very 
fine during the season.” 

Their conversation had turned to various subjects 
when Miss Reed, with a half-curious smile, said: 
“ Mr. Jennings, I have been waiting for you to ask 
me some more questions about—about—my lost or 
dead brother. I’m just dying to know why you 
asked me the questions you did.” 

“ Pardon me,” he replied; “ knowing that curios¬ 
ity is a natural trait of all women—as well as of 
men—I did wrong in saying what I did before I 
knew more about the case I was trying to unravel. 
But things are developing, and I trust that before 
many weeks I shall be able to tell you something 
that will interest you very much. Your mother’s 
coming here may help to clear up matters and be 


74 


SILVERADO 


the means of solving the problem I have been work¬ 
ing on since I first spoke to you concerning your 
lost brother.” 

“ Oh, you excite my curiosity more than ever.” 

“ That’s the way of us cruel men ; we delight in 
such things, you know. Our primitive, barbarian 
instincts still cling to us in one form or another.” 

“ The idea—how can you say it ?” 

“ What else could be expected from a newspaper 
man ?” 

“That’s so; you seem to cultivate the habit of 
saying cutting and sometimes cruel things. Then 
again you laud things to the skies, when that suits 
your fancy. Aren’t you newspaper men mean— 
sometimes!” 

“ It all goes with the process of molding so-called 
public opinion, which is considered to be a part of 
the business of a newspaper man. And of course 
the average editor swells witn the idea that he is a 
‘ molder ’ of the views of his community. However, 
it is my belief that it is not so much the views 
of the editor that crystallizes public sentiment as 
the lucid presentation and repeated publication of 
facts or, as the casa may be, the consistent repeti¬ 
tion of anything, be it truth or falsehood. After a 
while people will believe a bare-faced lie, if you 
persistently repeat it, and sometimes the teller will 
believe it himself.” 

“ Do you really think so ?” 

“ Yes ; the reading public as a whole does not ar¬ 
rive at its opinions by reasoning or study, but 
through emotions aroused by the eyes. That’s why 
the newspapers with the biggest headlines are the 


SILVERADO 


75 


best sellers. Some people only see or read the 
headlines and their views of things are thus ob¬ 
tained through the eyes only.” 

“ True; but don’t you think there are some people 
who look deeper into things—who use their mind 
as well as their eyes?’” 

“ Yes ; but you as a teacher will have observed 
that by our system of education we learn most of 
what we ever know through the eyes. The things 
we hear of course add to our knowledge ; but from 
the time we first open our eyes until we close them 
in final sleep, we get our impressions by pictures— 
mental pictures of the things we see. Even the 
sounds that come to our ears convey pictures of 
the thing or things from which the sounds emanate. 
The mental pictures that we form in our minds 
largely determine our actions, and contribute to 
our success or failure, our happiness or misery 
in this life and our hope in the future.” 

“ What about environment—don’t you think it 
has some influence over us ? Home surroundings— 
how different they are, according to the economic 
condition of the people.” 

“ Yes, because environment leaves permanent pic¬ 
tures on the mind that influence us all through life 
and have much to do with the molding of our 
habits as well as our character. I know a young 
man in this town who at heart is clean and true, 
but because of environment he has gone wrong and 
is on a downward course. 1 might tell you that I 
have taken a liking to the boy, and I am going to 
try to save him from wrecking his life.” 

“ How good in you to think of that, for there 


76 


SILVERADO 


seems to be very few who concern themselves 
about anything but making money. But I heard 
to-day that a minister—a missionary, I might say — 
has come here and will try to establish a church.” 

“ That’s encouraging; for one is surely needed. 
Since the boom struck the place, sin and vice are 
running Main street to the limit.” 


CHAPTER IX 

A PARSON COMES TO TOWN. 

1 

The mining boom that had drawn people from 
everywhere and of nearly every trade and profes¬ 
sion had at last attracted a disciple of the Humble 
Nazarene. One Rev. William Hogue, an Episcopal 
missionary, had come into camp to hold regular re¬ 
ligious services in a large tent erected for the pur¬ 
pose on some vacant ground at the lower end of 
town heretofore used by burro packers for camping 
purposes. The packers had been induced to move 
farther down the river, giving way, they said, “to 
the gospel tent for luck.” 

At first it was reported that a circus or some 
kind of show had come to town, but when it was 
announced in the Record that services would be held 
in the big tent, the news soon spread that there was 
a parson in camp. 

While the tent was being put up and provided 
with seats the minister had called on the editors, 
and they had generously offered to give the meet¬ 
ings free publicity in the paper. The parson also 
learned from them the names of people who might 
be interested in furthering his work and help in 
securing singers for the meetings. 

The first meeting drew a large audience and the 
preacher made a good impression, which assured a 


78 


SILVERADO 


good attendance for the future. The parson proved 
to be not only an eloquent preacher but a good 
mixer among the cosmopolitan population, and soon 
became quite popular even among those who had no 
particular use for his religion. But, although there 
was usually a good attendance at the Sunday night 
services, few conversions were reported. 

One of the regular attendants was a well-known 
gambler named “ Brownie” Lee, a name said to 
have been given him because of his close resem¬ 
blance to one of Palmer Cox’s brownies, at that 
time being featured in the comic weeklies. A dwarf 
in size, with thin, spindle legs and a round, fat 
stomach, rabbit eyes and a big, wide mouth, he 
might have posed as a model for the artist’s funny 
creations. 

Strange as it may seem, a close friendship grew 
up between the gambler and the parson, and 
Brownie became an usher in the gospel tent and 
helped in taking up the collection. Some of the 
orthodox brethren looked askance at the gambler, 
but Brownie would not be frowned upon and in¬ 
sisted in helping out with the financial end of the 
parson’s mission. 

Sometimes the collections in the big tent fell 
short of what Brownie thought they should have 
been, and at the close of the service he would re¬ 
turn to the several gambling houses where he was 
wont to “practice” his profession and take up an¬ 
other collection for the preacher and his mission 
church. Brownie spoke with a nasal twang, and his 
appeal for money was usually made in the following 
words as he passed from one table to another: 


SILVERADO . 79 

“ Come, boys ; the parson’s got to live, you know. 
Ante and look pleasant!” 

Then, if there was not a generous response in 
coins and chips, he would reach out his hand and 
help himself from the stacks of chips piled up on 
the tables. Never was any objection made, the 
gamblers giving silent consent to this method of 
collection. Brownie would then walk up to the bar 
or counter and have the chips cashed, and later he 
would turn over the total collection to the parson, 
who usually stood waiting outside for his friend. 

Thus it was that the generous-hearted gambler 
impressed the people with the fact that “the parson’s 
got to live,’’ a truth that is sometimes forgotten by 
more orthodox congregations. 

2 

Parson Hogue had been in camp about a month 
when the Record announced a special service for the 
next Sunday night. There was to be fine music 
by the choir, and Sallie Snelle was to sing a solo. 
This announcement filled the gospel tent to its ut¬ 
most capacity. There were old miners present who 
had not heard the Bible message for many years, or 
any preaching concerning man’s relation to God 
and his fellow men. But they had come more to 
hear “that Snelle gal’’ sing than to listen to the 
“sky pilot’’ telling them what to do. 

The preacher took for his Bible reading the story 
of the Prodigal Son, and in his address seemed to 
stir the hearts of his congregation as he had never 
done before. But when, at the close of the sermon 
Sallie arose before the large audience and in her 


80 


SILVERADO 


simple, unaffected and sweet girlish way sang 
“Where is My Wandering Boy To-night ?’’ there 
were many old miners and sin-hardened gamblers 
who bowed their heads and wiped the tears from 
their eyes. The song had touched their hearts as 
no sermon could have done, and no doubt many of 
those old men went back to their cabins that night 
thinking of mother and the old home back east. 

Before Sallie had finished her song, one big, 
broad-shouldered fellow arose to his feet, stared in 
silence at Sallie, turned deathly pale and almost 
reeled as he sat down again, murmuring to himself: 
“ My God, can it be possible ?” 

Harmon, who was seated directly behind him, 
observed the queer actions of the man and when he 
turned his face at once recognized him as John Scott. 
The few who had seen him arise thought the man 
had become converted and was about to make a 
confession, but the observing editor knew that some¬ 
thing else had prompted his action when he heard 
him speak. Evidently the girl’s face or her voice 
had reminded him of someone connected with his 
past life. 

Harmon watched Scott when the meeting was 
over and noticed that his eyes followed Sallie as she 
left the tent in company with Ruby and Ed, who 
had induced the girl to appear there that night. 

What relation could this big ruffian have to John 
Snelle’s grandchild ? Snelle had upon several occa¬ 
sions, in his private talks, hinted that he had a 
secret which he would some day divulge to him. 
Could it be that this man, Scott, had some connec¬ 
tion with it ? 


SILVERADO 


81 


Wondering to himself what it could be that Snelle 
had to tell him, he decided to draw it from him at 
the first opportunity. 


3 

“ What makes you so glum and serious looking, 
kid ? Has Sallie gone back on you ?” said Jennings. 

“ Oh, I got another clue to my mystery story to¬ 
night, and I can’t figure out what to make of it.” 

“ Where—at the tent?” 

“Yes. You remember that big fellow who tried 
to bulldoze us last winter ? Well, there’s some¬ 
thing wrong with that man. He acted queer 1-y 
to-night.” 

“ Maybe the preaching touched his conscience.” 

“ No, it wasn’t that; but the singing by Sallie, or 
the sight of her, stirred up something in his memory 
about his past life, I think. I sat close to him and 
saw his actions. 1 believe he is a villain from way 
back, and from this on I’m going to watch him.” 

4 

It would not be fair to say that the work of the 
Rev. Hogue did no good, but so far as the every¬ 
day life of the community was concerned his preach¬ 
ing had no appreciable effect. The saloons were as 
well patronized as ever; there was no check on 
gambling, and the red-light district was undis¬ 
turbed. The people clung to their idols, and the 
moral seed that the preacher had sown seemed to 
have fallen in barren ground. 

Silverado had heard the gospel message, but had 
not taken it seriously. An effort had been made to 


82 


SILVERADO 


perfect a church organization, but the few who 
were interested in the move were so divided by 
sectarianism that the effort failed. There was not 
enough people of any one denomination to organize 
a church or support a minister. 

The novelty of having a parson in town having 
worn off, and the nights growing chilly, the attend¬ 
ance at the tent began falling off, and the preacher 
became discouraged. Seeing no immediate results 
of his work, he decided that his mission had been 
a failure. 

So one day the missionary, like the Arabs of old, 
folded his tent and silently stole away. 

5 

One evening prior to the parson’s departure, 
Jennings had arranged a meeting of a few friends 
at the office “den” to bid him farewell. The min¬ 
ister had expressed regrets of leaving, when the 
subject of religion came up for discussion. 

“ Sandy ” Campbell, generally considered some¬ 
what of an agnostic, who had been quietly listening 
to the discussion, turned to the preacher and said: 

“ The trouble, Parson, is that your religion 
does not harmonize with our economic and social 
system. How could a man carry on business under 
present conditions and at the same time be a true, 
consistent Christian, according to the simple teach¬ 
ings of Jesus ? I tell you it is impossible.” 

“ But you must admit that there are many Chris¬ 
tian men in business,” replied Hogue. 

“ Oh, yes, they call themselves that, and no doubt 
many of them are sincere and conscientious in their 


SILVERADO 


83 


belief. But suppose the test was put up to them 
that was put to the rich man’s son by the Savior— 
don’t you think they would do just what he did ?” 

“ But times have changed—such things are not 
required of us now.” 

“ Maybe, but as I understand it from reading the 
New Testament my mother gave me when I left 
home, Christianity is a religion of equality—a dem¬ 
ocratic religion, I might say. Its corner stone is the 
ideal of the fatherhood of God and the brotherhood 
of man ; but under the present economic order and 
social distinction (and this distinction is the inevit¬ 
able result of this order) it is impossible to realize 
the Christian ideal. A truly Christian civilization 
can never be attained so long as a pagan economic 
order is maintained.” 

All present were surprised to hear Campbell ex¬ 
press his views so frankly and clearly, for none had 
thought that this quiet man seemingly engrossed in 
his business of assaying had ever given a serious 
thought to the subject of religion. No one ven¬ 
tured a reply, and he went on, the substance of his 
remarks being as follows : 

“ Ever since man fell from his high estate preach¬ 
ers, missionaries and reformers the world over have 
been trying to reform him. They have tried to 
scare him into being good by creating revengeful 
gods and devils, by providing sheols and hells for 
him, by building prisons and dungeons ; they have 
torturned him, flayed him alive and burned him at 
the stake, and by every means of threat and punish¬ 
ment endeavored to make him honest, temperate, 
virtuous and God-like. 


84 


SILVERADO 


“ Then, on the other hand, they have held out 
promises of a supremely happy future life; they 
have coaxed and persuaded ; they have built schools, 
churches, temples, hospitals and asylums ; they have 
pleaded in the name of the all-loving and humble 
Nazarene, and it would seem they have done all 
they could to make mankind better and happier, 
and yet, as we all know, the great mass of human¬ 
ity still dwells in ignorance and superstition.” 

Never before had his friends heard him speak with 
such earnestness. Everyone listened with marked 
attention as he went on : 

“ Poverty, ignorance, disease and crime are pop¬ 
ulating the world. The gutter and the slum, the 
hovel and the tenement are the breeding places of 
millions of children that, even in our own free 
America, never can and never will get a fair chance 
at decent living. Babes brought into the world 
under such conditions are unwelcome from the very 
time of their inception, and when born become a 
curse to themselves and a burden on their parents. 
These unwelcome children fill our prisons, asylums 
and poor-houses, many ending their lives in a felon’s 
grave. 

“Against this ever-flowing stream of the forces 
of ignorance and crime, those who have been and 
are giving their lives for the uplift of humanity are 
almost helpless.” 

“Well, Sandy,” interrupted Harmon, “I think 
you are right in what you say; but how are you 
going to prevent the ignorant, the vicious, and the 
criminally inclined from filling the world with their 
offspring ? Seems to me, it’s a great, big job you’ll 


SILVERADO 85 

have. Would you kill ’em off as fast as they are 
born?” 

“ That would nefer do,” said Snelle ; ‘‘you can not 
accompleesh any good by doing evil. I believe that 
wen things become what I call rotten, they will 
break out, and wen the badness has all worked 
out, things will heal up again. So things will go 
on until all the badness has been worked out of 
our system, and then we shall be better. But let 
us hear some more from Sandy.” 

“ I didn’t intend to do all the talking here to¬ 
night ; but if you want to listen to me, i’ll give you 
my ideas as I have reasoned things out. We must 
abolish poverty, and in order to do that, we must 
first of all abolish privilege and monopoly. The 
social and economic problems that confront the 
world to-day, and which will become more and more 
serious with the increase of population, can never 
be solved until special privilege and private monop¬ 
oly are destroyed. Here in the West where there is 
yet much unoccupied land that may be had for 
almost nothing from good old Uncle Sam, we know 
little about land monopoly as yet; but some day all 
this land, including these mineral-bearing moun¬ 
tains, will be claimed as the private property of 
some individual or company. Then none of you 
boys, if you are still alive, can go out and stake a 
claim for yourselves; for there’ll be a sign to ‘keep 
off the grass!’ ” 

“And how would you destroy monopoly ?” asked 
Jennings. “ Divide up everything, as the Socialists 
advocate ?” 

“ No, there’s been too much ‘divvy’ as it is; be- 


86 


SILVERADO 


sides, under the present order, the few ‘master 
minds’ with hoggish desires would soon have it all 
back again. 

“ The way is to unlock the door of equal oppor¬ 
tunity to all men by socializing Mother Earth, the 
Creator’s free gift to all his children. All other 
proposed economic reforms will fail until this is 
done. Then all natural monopolies must be social¬ 
ized by and for the people as a whole. 

“As to religion, Christianity must free itself from 
superstition, dogma and priestly formalities, none 
of which were ever instituted by its Founder, and 
join hands with knowledge and science in the re¬ 
demption of a lost world. A divorce of religion 
and knowledge will ultimately wreck modern civil¬ 
ization. A moral code based on ignorance, bigotry 
and superstition will crumble to dust. 

“The god of Mammon must be dethroned. As a 
nation we should be less absorbed with the idea of 
making money and more concerned about raising 
and training boys and girls to become good, law- 
abiding citizens. We should learn that the welfare 
of our workers is of more consequence than the 
accumulation of wealth, and that a preparedness 
for stability of industrial and social conditions is of 
greater importance than preparedness for conflict 
with some possible foreign foe. I believe that if 
this Republic is ever destroyed the Huns and Van¬ 
dals will come from within our own borders. 

“Autocracy of every form—political autocracy, 
industrial autocracy, social autocracy, ecclesiastical 
autocracy—must be destroyed. The world must be 
made really and truly democratic before there can 


SILVERADO 


87 


be true liberty and lasting peace. The religion of 
Jesus Christ is fundamentally democratic, for it 
contemplates the drawing of all men into its fold. 

“ Knowledge and science must unite with moral¬ 
ity and religion in a mighty effort to stay the pol¬ 
luted social stream. Then will come a time when 
men and women will use as much intelligence and 
science in rearing children as they now do in raising 
horses, hogs and—chickens! We must get rid of 
the idea that purity dwells in darkness and igno¬ 
rance, and recognize the fact that knowledge and 
intelligence may become the master of passion. 

“ When society has learned and accepted these 
truths, disease and crime will cease propagating 
their kind, and we won’t have to ‘kill ’em off ’ 
they’ll die off themselves in time.” 

Here Campbell paused, and Snelle again spoke : 

“That’s a big program you haf, Sandy; do you 
think it will effer be carried out ?” 

“You and I may not live to see it, but it will be 
either that or the world will drift back into sav¬ 
agery. Other civilizations flourished for a time, 
then went down. We have no assurance ‘that ours 
will endure unless we heed the lesson that history 
teaches.” 

“ But, Brother Campbell,” spoke the parson, 
“ you must admit that the Church is the one organ¬ 
ized institution that is at least trying to make the 
world better ?” 

“ Yes; but its efforts in the past have been mainly 
expended in trying to save man from eternal dam¬ 
nation—from hell, as you call it—while it has done 
little or nothing to save man from hell here on 


88 


SILVERADO 


earth. I believe it was Carlyle who said that the 
hell the average Englishman feared most was 
poverty. I think that’s true of other people as well 
as the English. The Church has been all-concerned 
about saving man’s soul and too frequently ignored 
the saving of his body. The Church has acted as a 
sort of insurance agency—purporting to save man’s 
soul from eventually falling into the hands of Old 
Belzebub or some other legendary devil. 

“ I have come to the conclusion, after studying 
the life of Jesus and his work here on earth, that 
Christianity can never hope to conquer the world 
until it adopts the methods of its founder, and sup¬ 
plements its spiritual teachings with social action. 
The principles that Jesus taught must be applied to 
every-day life—in our social relations, in business, 
in industry, in government, and in our dealings 
with other peoples and nations. But it is impossi¬ 
ble to apply those principles to-day under our estab¬ 
lished social and economic system. Hence the Church 
should concern itself to change our social creed so 
as to conform with its spiritual creed.” 

“Would not this cause a revolution?” 

“Not necessarily a bloody revolution, unless we 
go on from bad to w r orse and permit the growth of 
privilege and monopoly until its power becomes 
unbearable. Have you ever studied the history of 
Russia ? There, mark you, is a country that will 
witness the next terrible revolution—probably 
worse than the French revolution. 

“ You remember the words of Goldsmith : 

“ ‘ Ill fares the land, to hastening ills a prey, 
Where wealth accumulates, and men decay.’ 


SILVERADO 


89 


America, the land we all love so well, and in whos a 
just cause we would willingly give our lives if 
called upon so to do, is in danger of falling into 
social decay, by reason of the vast accumulation of 
wealth by a few men and powerful corporations, 
due principally to privilege and monopoly.” 

“ How would you prevent it or stop it?” 

“ By just and wholesome legislation. And the 
Church should take the lead in educating the people 
in social justice and economic reform.” 

“ Would not that be contrary to the spirit of our 
Constitution—a joining of Church and State?” 

“ No, the Church may work for social and indus¬ 
trial reform without becoming a political machine, 
and I believe that some day, in the not far distant 
future, Christian men and women, if they are really 
sincere in what they profess to believe, will awaken 
to their duty and responsibility as citizens as well 
church members.” 

‘‘I believe you are right,” said Jennings; “and 
the first thing they will do will be to destroy the 
saloon and prohibit the liquor traffic.” 

“ Perhaps. But the saloon is only one of the 
products of the profit system of industry. Take the 
average saloon keeper in this camp, and you’ll find 
that he is not in the business because he loves it, or 
because he takes delight in making men drunk, but 
because of the money profit there is in it. I do not 
stand up for the saloon, mind you ; for I think it is 
an abominable institution—a corupting influence— 
morally, socially politically, and economically. But 
as long as there is a demand for liquor there will 
be men ready to supply that demand, provided they 


90 


SILVERADO 


can make money by the transaction. And I don’t 
believe you can by sumptuary laws destroy a de¬ 
mand by the people for some kind of food or drink. 
Appetite knows no law or restriction, except as it 
is held in check by the mind.” 

“True,” said the parson; “you cannot by law 
compel men to be good if it is against their nature. 
But human nature may be influenced by environ¬ 
ment as well as by the efforts of those who are 
struggling to uplift the race to higher levels of 
truth and morality. If this were not true, all work 
in the line of progress would be futile. Therefore, 
I think you can legislate to make it easier for men 
to be honest, moral and more considerate of their 
fellows.” 

“And,” concluded Campbell, “ that’s just why I 
think the Church should step in and help make such 
laws, and I believe the day is coming when it will, 
or else it will have to go out of business.” 


CHAPTER X 

JOHN SNELLE TELLS HIS STORY. 

1 

One evening, some days after the special service 
in the gospel tent, Jennings was calling on Miss 
Reed. They had been rehearsing the events of the 
past few days when the teacher said : 

“ I had a rather strange experience in school 
yesterday. The children became greatly excited 
over it, and some of them told their parents that I 
had fainted, which of course was not true, though 
I must admit that I grew somewhat nervous before 
the day was over. I—” 

She hesitated, her eyes glowed and a quiver was 
perceptible on her lips. 

“ Do go on, Miss Reed,” he said; “ I am greatly 
interested.” 

“ Well, a large, black-whiskered man came to 
visit the school, a miner he said he was—a rather 
unusual thing. He pretended to be interested in 
our school work, but 1 noticed that his eyes were 
mostly on Sallie Snelle. He stayed around school 
all day, and the children began to wonder what he 
was there for. No one seemed to know him, though 
he had introduced himself to me as Mr. Scott. Dur¬ 
ing the noon hour, I learned, he questioned Sallie 
about her parents and asked her where she came 
from. After lunch, when I found him still at school, 


92 


SILVERADO 


I certainly grew nervous, because I couldn’t account 
for his prolonged visit. I was sure that it was not 
the school work that kept him there. Some of the 
children tittered among themselves, thinking he 
had come to see me, and was waiting to take me 
home. This of course amused me, but I was never 
so glad to dismiss school as I was yesterday.” 

“ I imagine you would be.” 

“And that is not all,” she continued. ‘‘This 
morning Sallie told me that the man followed her 
half way to her home in Horse Gulch, trying to 
engage her in conversation. The girl was almost 
afraid to come back to school to-day, fearing that 
he would follow her again.” 

‘‘The villain!” exclaimed Jennings. Then he 
thought of what Harmon had told him about Scott’s 
strange action in the tent on Sunday night. But he 
concluded that it was best not to mention the mat¬ 
ter to her at present. 

“ Do you think the man is mad, or has he become 
infatuated with Sallie ?” she questioned. 

“ I would not attempt to decide that question 
without first seeing him and observing his actions. 
But if he annoys you any more, send word to the 
office, and Frank or I will come to your assistance.’’ 

“ Thank you ; \ surely will if he does.” 

2 

When Jennings related what Miss Reed had told 
him about Scott, Harmon said : 

“ That only confirms my belief that there is some¬ 
thing back of this man’s actions, and I’m going to 
find out what it is.” 


SILVERADO 93 

“ It may be that he has fallen madly in love with 
Sallie since he heard her sing.” 

“ No, it’s something else. To-morrow I’m going 
up Horse Gulch again to see Snelle. He sent me a 
note by Sallie to come and stay over night while 
she remains in town with Ruby at the White House. 
He wants me to write up his mines and ask me 
some questions about the work in the Little Sallie. 
Now that we have an interest in it, we’ll have to 
put up some money for the development work which 
he is doing. I think he wants us to send a man up 
there to help him. And while I’m there I’ll have a 
chance to ask the old man some questions concern¬ 
ing Sallie, and I’ll find out what he knows about 
this man Scott.” 

3 

“ How pure and refreshing the mountain air !” 
exclaimed Harmon to himself, as he trod along the 
trail early that morning, now and then skirting the 
rushing mountain stream, and listening to its cease¬ 
less, murmuring song. How grand and beautiful 
the mountain slopes, now clad in their summer robe 
of verdure and innumerable wild flowers! How 
noble and stately the tall mountain pines; how sub¬ 
limely beautiful the pyramidal blue spruce, standing 
singly here and there along the trail or grouped 
together in the little mountain parks. 

He had traveled this trail many times before, in 
summer and winter, but this morning his sense of 
observation seemed keener than usual and his heart 
appeared to be fully attuned to the voice of Nature. 
Having lived mostly amid such scenes, he naturally 


94 


SILVERADO 


loved the mountains, but on this beautiful morn his 
heart rejoiced in the freedom of the eternal hills, 
and he thanked God that his lot had been cast here 
among these mountain fastnesses, “far, far from the 
maddening crowd ” of the congested centers of pop¬ 
ulation. How could a man look up to those lofty 
peaks, he thought, still clad in white caps of snow, 
and doubt the existence of an all-wise, all-powerful 
Creator! 

Snelle was at the cabin to meet him and greeted 
him warmly upon his arrival. 

“ You are a good walker, my boy, to get here so 
early,” he said. “ How are you ? I am verry glad 
to haf you come.” 

“ I’m just fine and dandy, Uncle. I’ve enjoyed 
every step of the way up here.” 

“ So-o. I’m glad of that. I haf so many things 
to tell you. After you haf rested a little and we 
haf had a bite to eat, we will go the hill up to the 
mine and see the work I haf been doing.” 

4 

It was late in the afternoon when they returned 
from the mine. While Snelle was preparing sup¬ 
per, Harmon was examining some specimens of ore 
with a magnifying glass, and waiting for an oppor¬ 
tunity to ask the old miner the questions he had in 
mind. It came after they had finished the meal and 
both were seated outside the cabin enjoying a 
smoke. Snelle had been talking very enthusias¬ 
tically and hopefully about the prospects of soon 
striking a large body of paying ore in the Little 
Sallie, when Harmon interrupted him by saying: 


SILVERADO 


95 


“ Uncle John, I have often wondered why you 
came to these mountains with Sallie. With your 
musical education and talent you could make an 
easier living in some eastern city.. And then it 
would be a better place for Sallie. She ought to 
have more education than the school here is able to 
give her.” 

“ Yes, verry true,” replied Snelle, and a cloud 
seemed for a moment to pass over his wrinkled 
face. “ I neffer made a business of my music—that 
is just for pleasure and reelaxation. And Sallie— 
well, she is all I haf left, and she has been such a 
comfort to me, with her singing and all. And when 
I strike it rich, she shall haf the education.” Then 
after a pause he continued: “ But it is a long story, 
my boy, wy I am here.” 

“ Tell it to me, Uncle, and I assure you that I will 
keep it to myself.” 

Snelle sat silent for a moment, as if trying to re¬ 
call the past; then he shook the ashes from his pipe, 
arose and, looking up and down the trail, said: 

“ Let us go inside.” 

5 

They seated themselves at the table, which had 
not yet been cleared of the dishes. The old miner 
looked up at the enlarged photo of a young woman 
which hung on the wall facing him. Then he began, 
speaking in a low voice as if fearing that some 
evesdropper might hear him. The substance of his 
story was as follows: 

“ I was born in Alsace, and came to this country 
when but a boy. After living in New York a few 


96 


SILVERADO 


years, I went to Chicago, where I was married to 
a French girl when twenty-two years old. When 
the Civil War broke out I enlisted and served in 
General Grant’s army to the end. At the close of 
the war I returned to Chicago and went into the 
bakery business. I lost nearly everything I had in 
the big fire. But I got on my feet again, and pros¬ 
pered until my wife died, leaving me with an only 
daughter, then eighteen years old. She was a beau¬ 
tiful girl, as you will see by that picture (pointing 
to the enlarged photograph on the wall above him), 
and she had many suitors. She had a wonderful 
voice, too, and her singing was much admired and 
praised by all who heard her. Sallie’s voice reminds 
me of hers. A year after her mother’s death she 
was married to a young man named Henry Foster. 
They lived happily together for a time, until one 
day Henry got into a quarrel with a man named 
Evans, who had been a rival for my daughter’s 
hand. Evans was a large, powerful man, and in 
the struggle he struck Henry a terrible blow on 
the jaw, knocking him senseless. My son-in-law 
never regained consciousness, and died in a few 
days. Evans fled from Chicago. 

“ A few months after the death of Henry, Mary, 
my daughter, gave birth to a little girl, but lost 
her own life. Thus I was left alone with the little 
grand-child. Sarah Foster is her real name, but 
you know her as Sallie Snelle.” 

Here the old man paused, his hands clasped and 
resting on his knee, his head bent and his eyes 
turned to the floor. After a few minutes of silence, 
he resumed : 


SILVERADO 


97 


“ Frank, my boy,” looking up into his face, “ I 
think you are on the square and I trust you as my 
own son, so 1 will tell you. My real name is Siebert. 
Wen I came West I changed my name, because I 
thought that some day I might run across Evans, 
and he would not be looking for me with that name, 
should he hear of me. Then I let my full beard 
grow, so he would not know me, should he efer 
see or meet me anywhere. 

“ I had worked some in the mines in the old coun¬ 
try before I left there, so when I read of the won¬ 
derful discoveries of silver ore in Leadville in 
seventy-nine, lleft Chicago and came to Colorado.” 

“ Did you ever meet Evans?” 

The old man arose to his feet, walked back and 
forth from one end of the cabin room to the other, 
apparently very nervous and disturbed of mind. 

Regaining his composure somewhat, he said : 

“ My boy, I can trust you ?” 

“On my word of honor, Uncle, I shall never tell 
this to anyone.” 

“ Yes, in Leadville ; and one dark night I followed 
him to his cabin and told him who I was. Then I 
shot him, and I think I—I—killed him !” 

Again seating himself at the table, he covered his 
face with his hands. “ Oh, mine Gott, maybe I did 
wrong, but he killed Henry, and Mary grieved her¬ 
self to death. How could I help it, boy ?” 

“Are you sure you killed him ?” 

“ He fell at his cabin door, but I nefer stopped to 
see if he was dead.” 

‘‘And what brought you to Silverado?” 

“ I went back to Denver, where I had left Sallie. 


98 


SILVERADO 


Wen I heard of this new camp, so far away from 
efery place, I thought it would be a good place to 
hide until they quit looking for me. Wen I told 
Sallie I was going back to the mountains, she 
begged me to let her go with me, and it would haf 
been a lonely life up here without her. She is 
always so bright and cheery, just like her mother 
was. Wenever I come to the cabin tired and wor¬ 
ried, she will tell me that worry should haf no place 
under the roof that shelters Grandpa and Sallie. 
And she sings so beautifully to me when I play the 
zither. You haf wondered wy I am so cheery 
and hopeful most of the time—well, it is Sallie who 
makes me, and I do not know wat I should do 
without her. . Now, my boy, you haf my story, 
and I trust you will keep my secret.” 

•“ Indeed, I will, Uncle. Does Sallie know ?” 

“ She knows wat her real name is, but she does 
not know how her father died. We called her Sallie 
wen she was a little baby, and so long as I am 
alive she wants us to call her by that name.” 

“And now I want to ask another question, Uncle. 
Have you ever met a man in this camp named Scott 
—John Scott ?” 

“ I think I haf heard his name mentioned, but I 
haf nefer met him to know him. You know I do 
not free-quent the saloons or gambling places much. 
I find your office more pleas-ant. But wy do you 
ask me that question?” 

“ I believe he is the Evans you think you killed.” 

“Watt!” cried Snelle, again rising to his feet 
and appearing greatly excited. “ Where is he?” 

“ Keep cool, Uncle; we must go slow, This man 


SILVERADO 


99 


Scott has been acting very queenly of late, or since 
he heard Sallie sing at the gospel tent a week or 
two ago. Did she tell you that he followed her one 
evening from school and asked her a lot of ques¬ 
tions about you and herself?” 

“ No.” 

“ Strange; but he probably told her not to, threat¬ 
ening to do her harm if she did.” 

“ Oh, I see now,” said Snelle in a lower voice. 
“ Sallie hasn’t been just like herself lately, and there 
was one day she did not want to go to school. Oh, 
let me find the man !” 

‘‘Now, leave it to me, Uncle,” said Harmon after 
he had related what he had observed at the gospel 
tent and what he had been told about Scott’s visit 
to the school-house ; “and if he really is Evans—and 
I think he is—I’ll trap him.” 

“ Yes, yes, my boy; you are right. I lose my 
self-control wen I think of him—the murderer !” 

Then the two began clearing off the table, and 
their conversation again turned to matters relating 
to the mines. Before they went to bed Harmon 
had agreed to send a man, with supplies, to help in 
the work of driving the cross-cut tunnel on the 
Little Sallie. 

6 

The next morning when Harmon was on his way 
back to town he met Sallie just as he rounded a 
bend in the trail and under the shade of a group 
of spruce. 

” Hello, Sallie !” he cried. “ You look as sweet 
as a peach and as fresh and pretty as a Colorado 
columbine!” 


100 


SILVERADO 


“Thank you, Mr. Harmon,” said the girl, blush¬ 
ing. “ Do you really mean it?” 

“Yes, I do, and what’s more than that, you and 
Ruby are the gems of the camp. Come and sit 
down, and we’ll both rest for a little while.” 

He thought he had never seen Sallie look quite 
as pretty as she did this bright morning. Surely 
the girl was developing into a beautiful young 
woman. Heretofore he had thought of her only in 
a sort of “big brotherly” way, but now he felt his 
heart touched with a feeling and passion akin to 
love—a feeling he could not repress. 

They had been talking but a few moments as they 
were seated side by side on a large pine that had 
fallen alongside the trail, when he impulsively 
grasped the girl’s hand. 

“ Sallie,” he said, “do you think you could love a 
fellow like me ?” 

“ Oh, Mr. Harmon,” she replied, with downcast 
eyes, “ I’m only a poor ignorant girl. Some day 
you will be a great newspaper man, and you would 
not want me to love you.” 

“ But I do; I love you with all my heart!” 

He clasped her in his strong arms and kissed her 
passionately. She made no resistance; it was a 
new experience to her, and she did not quite un¬ 
derstand the thrilling sensation that the young man 
had aroused in her; she had never felt that way 
when Grandpa kissed her. 

A moment he held her in his arms, and looked 
deep into her eyes; then he let her go and said : 
“ Some day I will make you my wife, Sallie.” 

They parted. He stood watching her until she 
disappeared up the winding trail. 


CHAPTER XI 

JENNINGS UNDER SUSPICION. 

1 

“ Your town is going to the bad fast,” said Jen¬ 
nings one evening to a group of friends gathered at 
the office “den.” “ I’ve seen more drunks lately 
than ever, and the dance halls are crowded every 
night. Vice promenades Main street unashamed 
and nobody seems to care. So engrossed are the 
people in the chase after the almighty dollar that 
very few, if any, concern themselves about the 
morals of the town, and as for any religious senti¬ 
ment, that is very negligible. We have seen how 
the efforts of Parson Hogue to arouse the people 
to a sense of the higher life failed.” 

“ What you say may be true, Ed,” replied Har¬ 
mon, “ but when all is said, is this town really much 
worse than other towns throughout the country ? 
The only difference is, here everything is done 
openly and without any attempt to cover it up with 
false pretensions.” 

“ Yes, if the truth be told,” put in Fred Campbell, 
who was one of those present, ‘‘is not Mammon the 
god of gods?” And receiving no reply, he con¬ 
tinued : 

“ Witness the mad rush for wealth everywhere. 
How greedily men and women grab after every 
device of the speculator and promoter to get rich 


102 


SILVERADO 


quickly and without honest effort or toil. We do 
not like to admit it, but has not our nation gone 
money mad ? And the thing seems to be growing, 
just as the struggle for existence becomes more 
intense as our needs and desires increase. The few 
who lead the simple life are considered back num¬ 
bers. While we denounce the profiteer, we exalt 
and bow to the man with millions, and seldom do 
we stop to enquire how he acquired his vast wealth. 
I know you boys think I am more or less a crank, 
but I want to ask you, how long do you think a 
democracy can endure under such conditions ? Have 
you ever read Macaulay’s prophecy ? 

“ Even the Church, an institution supposed to 
have been founded by God himself, has to a large 
extent become commercialized. When efforts are 
made to raise money to carry the gospel of the 
Humble Nazarene into the lands of benighted hea¬ 
thens, one of the pleas has been that it is good 
business policy, because it will open up new markets 
and enlarge our foreign trade. It is not that we 
care so much whether the heathen is ‘saved ’ or not 
or that his economic condition may be improved, 
but that we may be able to sell him more of our 
goods at enormous profits. We want to ‘christian¬ 
ize’ him so we may be better able to exploit him. 

“So the same ship that takes a missionary or a 
teacher to China or Africa also carries a cargo of 
intoxicating liquors, tobacco and narcotics. England 
forced opium on China, now America is trying to 
‘educate’ the almond-eyed race to take whisky and 
tobacco. And still there are people, like the good 
parson who left us, who wonder why the world has 


SILVERADO 


103 


not long ago been converted to Christianity ! Com¬ 
pare the living conditions of the dweller in our city 
slums with that of the poor in China or with the 
wild men of the jungles, and would you say that 
the former is much better off economically than 
those who have never heard the name of Jesus?” 

2 

While the wide-open traffic of the social evil had 
shocked him and the unregulated liquor trade and 
gambling habit had touched his heart with pity for 
their many victims, one thing about the little mining 
town had impressed Jennings as rather strange or 
paradoxical, and that was that its people were gen¬ 
erally honest. He could only account for this from 
the fact that there were none very poor nor yet 
any very rich in the community. He learned that 
honesty was characteristic of the people of frontier 
communities. Miners’ cabins were never locked, 
and no one seemed to fear that anything left therein 
would be carried away. The prospector, weary 
and hungry after a day’s tramp over the moun¬ 
tains in search of gold or silver, would find the 
miner’s cabin always open and he was welcome to 
help himself to any food that he might find, but 
never did he abuse such a privilege and carry away 
any other things. 

This sense of honesty seemed to be so common a 
thing that when it was reported one morning that 
a number of miners’ cabins had been robbed of 
money and watches, and a store or two entered in 
the night and the cash drawer emptied, there was 


104 SILVERADO 

not only indignation but surprise that such had 
been the case. 


3 

When the next issue of the Record appeared it 
gave not only a full account of the robberies, but 
Harmon offered a reward of five hundred dollars 
for information that would lead to the arrest and 
conviction of the thief or thieves. 

As he was passing Fred Campbell’s assay office 
the evening after the paper had been published, the 
editor was called into the back room of the place. 

“Frank,” said Campbell, smiling, “the miners are 
laughing about your offer of reward, for none less 
than your own pious partner is under suspicion of 
having robbed their cabins, and he is being watched 
every night he goes out.” 

“What do you mean, Sandy?” cried Harmon 
with indignation. “ You can’t tell me Ed would 
steal a red from anybody ! That boy is as clean and 
straight as they make them. Only wish I could 
measure up to him in that respect.” 

“ That’s all right, but they have the goods on 
him, and for all you know he may be as big a hypo¬ 
crite as some others in this camp who wear the 
cloak of piety. Take old Doc Chandler, for instance, 
who loans money to the miners at ten per cent, per 
month, and who tried to shine in the parson’s gos¬ 
pel tent, I wouldn’t trust him as far as I could see 
him. He would skin you to the last dollar if you 
gave him the chance. I would rather take my 
chances with Brownie Lee.” 

“ But Ed isn’t one of that kind. The boys have 


SILVERADO 105 

simply got on the wrong trail. What are your 
grounds of suspicion ? 

“You know one dollar rag money is scarcer than 
hen’s teeth in this camp, and you remember that 
one dollar bill, with a piece of court plaster stuck 
on its back to hold it together, that he used to show 
the fellows of our gang up in your den? Well, 
that very piece of rag money, together with his 
pocket-book, was found in Dan’s cabin the morning 
after it was robbed. Dan showed it to me and said: 
‘ I never would have thought it of Ed, but here is 
Exhibit A, as the law shark would say.’ Do you 
know where Ed was the night of the robberies?’’ 

“ No, I was up Horse Gulch with Uncle Snelle 
that night. But I know he can give an account of 
himself.” 

“ Well, you’d better watch him after this.” 

“ He needs no watching, but I’ll find out who the 
real thief is. You watch me.” 

4 

A little later, when Harmon returned to the 
office, he said: 

“ Ed, have you still got that curio—the one dollar 
bill you showed us last winter?” 

“ Yes ; why ?” 

“ Are you sure ?” 

“ Well, I think so—let me see—I left it in my old 
pocketbook in a coat hanging in the closet there.” 

“ Go see if it’s there yet.” 

Jennings acted upon the suggestion, and after a 
search he said : “The pocket-book and all is gone. 
Some one must have stolen it when we were out, 


106 


SILVERADO 


and that recently for I left it there only a few days 
ago. Do you know anything about it ?” 

“ Yes, but I can’t tell you now.” 

5 

A few days later Harmon learned that Scott had 
disappeared from town, and he at once thought that 
he must have been the thief. And when he ques¬ 
tioned Sallie and learned what the girl had told 
about herself and her grandfather, he saw what 
Scott’s motive had been—to get enough money to 
get out of the country as quickly as possible. 

Scott’s disappearance, together with other cir¬ 
cumstances, soon cleared away the suspicion cast 
upon Jennings, which he himself had never been 
aware of, his associate never having mentioned it. 
It was not until some weeks later, when Dan re¬ 
turned the paper dollar to him, that it dawned upon 
him that he had been suspected of stealing. 

Only to Uncle Snelle did Harmon speak of his 
conclusions that Scott was none other than Evans, 
the man who years ago had killed Sallie’s father. 
Scott’s discovery that Snelle and his grandchild 
were living in the same camp with him had made 
him uncomfortable. The fear of Snelle, should he 
find him out, had been the cause of his sudden flight 
from camp. Harmon had planned to bring him to 
justice, but now he had evidently escaped. 

No trace of him could be found, and as the weeks 
passed by, the thief and the thefts seemed to be for¬ 
gotten by the miners. 


CHAPTER XII 

THE DANCE HALL AND ITS VICTIMS. 

1 

Harmon and Jennings had decided to employ a 
miner to assist Snelle in the development of the 
Little Sallie. One evening they were making the 
rounds of places frequented by miners, and they 
found themselves in a place known as “TheGlobe,” 
a combination of saloon, vaudeville theatre and 
dance hall. The performance on the stage had just 
closed and the dancing was beginning. 

The floor having been cleared of the seats, the 
actresses now came down and mingled with the 
audience, mostly men, and began soliciting for 
dances. The “girls,” so-called, were a part of the 
assets of the house, and the profits were divided 
between them and the proprietor. Dancing was 
free, but after every dance the “gentleman” was 
expected to march up to the bar with the “ lady” 
and pay for the drinks. Should the girl not care to 
drink, she was given a “chip” or ticket which she 
later cashed in. Here was dancing and drink com¬ 
mercialized on a profit-sharing plan. The girl who 
attracted the most dancers was considered the best 
“ hustler ” and was the favorite of the proprietor. 
Carrying out this program of dance and drink, in 
due time the “ gentleman ” became an easy victim 
of the girl’s charms and was led off to her room 


108 


SILVERADO 


up*stairs, sometimes to be entirely relieved of what¬ 
ever of money he might have left. 

“Commercialized vice and free trade in sin!” 
Jennings said to himself as he stood near the plat¬ 
form where the orchestra was playing, listening to 
the music and watching the dancing and drinking. 
He was disturbed in his reverie by one of the girls, 
who stepped up to him and said with an attempted 
smile: 

“ Hello, honey ; come have a dance.” 

This was not the first time he had been solicited 
by a co-called sporting woman to dance. The sin- 
hardened look, the total lack of all womanly mod¬ 
esty, and the general depravity stamped upon the 
faces of these dance-hall girls had heretofore re¬ 
pelled him, and he had usually turned down their 
invitation with a short “ No, thank you; I’m not 
dancing to-night.” But this girl’s voice seemed 
softer than any he had heard before from her sisters 
in sin, and there was even a touch of sadness in it 
he thought, and as he looked into her large brown 
eyes, he imagined that there was still a spark of 
modesty there. Evidently she was a new victim of 
the social system that was responsible for her kind 
of sinners. 

He looked at her silently a moment, and the girl 
seemed charmed by his serious look; beneath the 
powder and paint upon her face there might have 
been a faint blush, he thought. 

“ I’m not much of a dancer,” he said, still look¬ 
ing the girl in the face. 

“ Come and try it,” she pleaded ; “ I’ll show you 
how.” 


SILVERADO 


109 


He did not know why, but the next moment he 
had yielded to her entreaties, and when the orches¬ 
tra started to play a waltz he was seen gliding over 
the floor with the girl. 

It did not occur to him until the next day to ques¬ 
tion himself as to what his mother back there in the 
little home in Chicago would have thought had she 
seen him that night dancing with a woman of this 
class. Had he put himself on a level with the girl 
by his act ? He thought of the words of the Savior: 
“ He that is without sin among you, let him cast a 
stone at her.” Why should he condemn this girl? 
Maybe she had been more sinned against than sin¬ 
ning. What had led her into this sinful life, and 
who, besides herself, was responsible ? 

When the music ceased the girl led him up to the 
bar. He took a light drink and paid for two, the 
girl pocketing the “chip” as her profits from the 
dance. 

‘‘Oh, I’m so tired!” she exclaimed as she was 
about to leave him to go off in search of another 
partner for the next dance. 

“ Then come and sit down and rest awhile,” said 
Jennings, and he escorted her to a seat in a corner 
of the hall, back of the orchestra. 

“ The boss may not like this,” she said when they 
were seated, ‘‘for us girls are supposed to be on the 
hustle all the time. It means money for the house 
and bar, you know.” 

“ I’m thinking that you are new at this business?” 
he said. 

“ Oh, not so new as you might think. I’ve been 
on the turf a year or more,” she replied. 


110 


SILVERADO 


“ It’s none of my business, of course; but what 
induced you to go into it?” 

“ Money, easy money—that’s all. I worked as a 
hash slinger in Denver and other places, and could 
get only ten dollars a week, working from ten to 
twelve hours a day. Kicked and cursed if I ever 
slipped and broke a dish. Now I’m making from 
ten to twenty-five dollars a day, have all the good 
clothes I can wear, and come and go as I please. Of 
course I’m looked down upon by so-called decent 
people, but not much more than I was when I was 
a slavey in a hotel or restaurant. None of your 
good Christian society ladies would associate with 
me when I was a common industrial slave any more 
than they would now that I am a slave of sin. So 
what’s the difference?” 

“ The wages of sin is death,” he said. ‘‘And there 
is a hereafter.” 

“ Now, don’t you preach to me; I’ve heard that 
before. Preachers tell us we musn’t sin, but they 
never do anything to make it easier for people to 
be good. I’m not in this business because I love it, 
but because there’s more money in it than in slaving 
in somebody’s kitchen or shooting biscuits in a hash 
house.” 

“ But you might find other employment.” 

‘‘Yes, and at starvation wages. My folks were 
poor, so I never got much schooling,” she said, and 
before he could reply she went on : “ You men look 
down upon us because we sell our bodies to you for 
money, so you may gratify your passion. You some¬ 
times sell your souls in a sharp business deal. 
Which is worse ? If I were a man, maybe I could 


SILVERADO 


111 


beat somebody out of a few thousand dollars under 
the cover of law, and you would call me a good 
business man—a shrewd financier, and you would 
put my name in your paper. But I’m just a com¬ 
mon prostitute, selling my body for shekels until 
I get enough to go back east and help to keep my 
old mother from going to the poor-house. She will 
never know how I got it, or it would break her 
heart. But I never could earn enough at decent 
work to do it.” 

Jennings was amazed by the girl’s frankness, and 
was at a loss for a reply. He had never thought of 
the social evil in this light before. After a pause, 
she continued : 

“ If you ask any of the girls who are in this same 
business, you will find that most of them were 
driven to it by poverty. Now and then a girl from 
a good home may be led astray by some bad man, 
but of all the scarlet sisters I have known, nine- 
tenths of them came from poor homes—homes 
where the common comforts of life were denied 
them. Because of the poverty of the parents they 
never got beyond the fourth grade in school; they 
had to go out and earn their own living when they 
should have been in school. Maybe their mother 
had to go out and work to keep the family alive, 
and a mother’s love and a mother’s sympathy was 
something they never knew. Maybe they had a 
worthless, drunken father. Girls are vain crea¬ 
tures, with a certain amount of pride as well as 
weakness; they like to have nice clothes and fixings, 
and those like myself have found that there is an 
easy way to get them. Why, men will give us 


112 


SILVERADO 


things they won’t give their own dear little wives. 
Oh, it’s easy money, boy, when we catch an old 
married sucker.” 

“ Maybe it looks easy when you are first tempted, 
but that way must in the end lead to disgrace and 
death !” 

“ But tell me which is worse—suffer social dis¬ 
grace or be doomed to a life of drudgery and pov¬ 
erty?” 

Before Jennings could reply, Harmon, with Dan 
Rattek at his side, stood before them. 

44 Hello, Baby,” said Dan, smiling and looking 
into the girl’s face; “trying to make a mash on Ed?” 

The girl jumped to her feet. 44 Come, honey, and 
have a dance,” she said. 

“I’m broke—lost all my money, 2 ’ replied Dan. 

“ There’s plenty in my bank,” she said, stooping 
down and reaching her hand into her stocking and 
pulling out a bag of gold coins. “ Here, take this, 
and promise me you won’t get drunk to-night.” 

She gave him a twenty-dollar gold piece, and the 
next moment they were out on the floor in the 
midst of the dancers. 

Harmon, who had watched the girl’s actions, said: 
44 Baby Brown has got a lot of Dan’s money ; now 
that he’s broke, she’s generous enough to give some 
of it back to him. I wonder if any of the saloon¬ 
keepers will do as much ?” 

“Hardly,” said Jennings, turning as if intending 
to leave the place, when a short, heavy-set man in 
overalls accosted him. 

44 Is your name Jennings ? My name is Ralli,” he 
said. “ I heard you wanted to see me.” 


SILVERADO 113 

“ Yes, been looking for you for a week or more. 
Will you come with me to the office?” 

3 

Soon they were away from the noise of the dance 
hall, and when they were seated in the Record 
office Ralli looked inquiringly at the editor. 

‘‘You are wondering why I want to see you,” 
said Jennings after he had looked into Ralli’s face a 
moment. “ Well, I’ll tell you. I’ve been interested 
in Dan Rattek lately for reasons which I need not 
tell you now. If I succeed in finding out what I 
want to know, it will be for his good, I assure you. 
I understand you knew his father years ago?” 

“ Yes, I knew him some twenty years ago in 
Central City and Georgetown.” 

‘‘Will you tell me something about the family— 
what you know ?” 

“ Well, there ain’t so very much to know.” He 
drew a pipe from his pocket, filled and lit it. Then, 
speaking with the accent of a Cornishman, he con¬ 
tinued : 

“ I first met Carl Rattek in Central City ; he was 
Norwegian or Swede born, I think. He was boss 
of the mine I worked in at the time, and he had just 
been married to a girl from some place in Iowa. He 
and his wife appeared to get along fine together 
and were as happy as young folks usually are. In 
due course of time there came two youngsters to 
them—a girl and a boy. Dan, the lad, was the 
younger. If I remember right, the girl’s name was 
Ruby. She was a pretty little lass with big blue 
eyes and light flaxen hair. The miners used to call 
her Baby Blue-eye.” 


114 


SILVERADO 


After stopping to relight his pipe, he went on: 
“Well, as I was saying, while the Ratteks lived in 
Central City things went smoothly, but after they 
moved to Georgetown another woman appeared on 
the scene, who seemed to cause trouble. The queer 
part of it was that this woman had been a girl 
friend of Rattek’s wife—they had gone to school 
together back in Iowa. 

“ Finally, there came a bust up, and they sepa¬ 
rated. Rattek took the lad, then about four years 
old, and left for Nevada. It was supposed that the 
woman who caused the separation went with him, 
but I don’t know as to that for sure. The mother 
took the girl and went back to her folks in Iowa. 

“ Rattek died in Nevada, and when Dan was about 
fourteen years old he came back to Georgetown. 
He was a sort o’ happy go lucky kid and everybody 
took to him. Well, he worked in and around the 
mines there until he came here with me and a bunch 
of miners.” 

“ And what became of the mother and girl?” 

“ I never knew for sure, though I heard once that 
they came back to Denver, where the mother taught 
school for several years or until she was married 
again.” 

“ Do you know the name of her second husband?” 

“ No, I never found out. For the sake of the kid 
I tried to find her, but on account of the change in 
name I never could. I don’t suppose she ever knew 
that her lad had come back from Nevada.” 

“ Do you think you would know Mrs. Rattek if 
you saw her.now ?” 

“ Can’t tell; you know it’s over twenty years 


SILVERADO 


115 


ago since I saw her, and I’m thinking she’s changed 
a bit in that time. Do you think she’s still living?” 

“I’m inclined to think she is. A lady is coming 
to this camp in a few weeks, and I want you to 
meet her and tell her that we have found her long- 
lost boy.” 

“ My word, lad, you certainly will surprise me if 
you can bring Dan’s mother back to him after all 
these years.” 

“We shall see.” 

Just then Harmon, accompanied by Dan, came 
into the room, and the conversation turned to min¬ 
ing. Harmon informed his partner that Dan had 
agreed to go to Horse Gulch on the morrow and 
help Snelle in the work on the Little Sallie. 

When the group separated for the night, Dan 
said: “ Well, good night, boys, and after to¬ 
morrow 1 won’t see the inside of a saloon for a long 
time.” 

A month later, when reminded of his remark, all 
thought how prophetic had been his words. 


CHAPTER XIII 

PICNICKING NEAR TIMBERLINE. 

1 

Horseback rides over the mountain trails and 
picnic parties on the higher points were very pop¬ 
ular with Silverado’s younger set during the sum¬ 
mer. The season was drawing to a close, and a 
party, with Mrs. Wakefield as chaperon, had been 
planned to be held at the head of Horse Gulch, near 
the Johnny Bull mine. 

Bright and early the party met at the White 
House, where saddle horses were in waiting for the 
picnickers, and a couple of burros with pack-saddles 
to carry the lunch. There were twenty persons in 
all, among them being Miss Reed, Fred Campbell, 
the two editors, several mining superintendents and 
young ladies whose names do not matter so far as 
this story is concerned. 

Soon the party was well on its way, and as the 
gay cavalcade passed Snelle’s cabin it was joined by 
Dan and Sallie, who had been invited to take part 
in the day’s outing. 


2 

The place selected for the picnic was a little 
park near the top of the divide between Horse 
Gulch and the West Dolores, a beautiful open spot 
among the bright green quaking aspen and the blue 
spruce—a veritable bower of nature, carpeted with 



Lizard Head stood out like a lone sentinel in the great stretch of mesas and mountains (Page 120.) 











































































































































SILVERADO 


117 


soft grass and innumerable wild flowers, the pun¬ 
gent odors of the evergreens mingling with the 
sweet fragrance of the flowers. But for the faint 
rustle of the leaves of the aspen and the occasional 
twitter of the chipmunks that ventured out from 
among the branches of the evergreens to investigate 
this sudden intrusion of their domain, there was that 
perfect stillness to be found only in the silence of 
the woods. 

It was near noonday when the picnickers arrived 
on this spot, for they had ridden leisurely up the 
trail, chatting, singing and laughing on the way, 
and thoroughly enjoying the pure morning air such 
as one rarely finds except in the mountains. 

While the men of the party unsaddled the horses 
and turned them out to feed on the grass, some 
hobbled and others tethered with ropes, the ladies 
busied themselves with preparing and spreading the 
lunch. Harmon had been drafted to make the 
coffee and Jennings was commissioned to bring the 
water from a little stream that gushed out from 
among the rocks a short distance above. 

When everything was in readiness Mrs. Wake¬ 
field sounded the call by beating on a tin plate, and 
soon all were seated there around the “table” on 
the grass and under the shade of the aspen and 
spruce. A finer picnic lunch was never spread, and 
it was eaten with that zest and relish known only 
to those who have camped in the mountains at some 
time of their life. 

While some of the ladies disposed of the plates 
and the food that was left over, others paired off in 
groups and wandered off on the hillsides and gath- 


118 


SILVERADO 


ered flowers. The odor of the waste food had 
attracted numerous chipmunks and squirrels, and 
blue jays, “camp robbers’’ and other birds, which 
now feasted on the remnants. 

3 

Jennings and Miss Reed were seen beside a shady 
spruce talking and now and then looking towards 
the mountain peak that could be seen to the north, 
above the tops of the trees. 

“ Do you know,” he said, “ I’ve had a great desire 
ever since I came to the mountains to climb to the 
top of one of those peaks. Have you ever been to 
the top of one ?” 

“ Oh, yes,” she replied, smiling ; “ I’ve been to 
the top of Pike’s Peak and other peaks in the north¬ 
ern part of the State.” 

They walked on through a little opening between 
the trees, following what seemed to be the trail of 
some animal, until they found themselves on a “hog 
back” or ridge where they had full view of the 
peak, the top of which was still covered with snow. 

“ Let’s climb to the top,” she suggested. 

“I’m game,” he replied, “if you think it won’t 
tire you to death.” 

“ Oh, I’m mountain born and bred, you know, 
and you’ll find that I can run up these hills like 
a deer.” 

He took her at her word, and up, up the climbed, 
following the trail on the ridge. Soon they came 
to a rock slide, where they found walking more 
difficult, and ever and anon they had to stop and 
rest. The top of the mountain looked no closer 


SILVERADO 119 

than it did from the place where they had started 
the climb, but they kept going. 

They began to feel the difference in the density of 
the air as they reached the higher altitude. Jen¬ 
nings, not used to mountain climbing, found his 
heart beating hard and rapidly, but he was deter¬ 
mined that the young woman should not outdo him. 

4 

Finally they reached timberline. Here the ground 
was bare, save here and there where tufts of coarse, 
pale-green grass had forced their way through the 
crevices of the rocks. She followed closely at his 
heels, though at times she took the lead when he had 
to stop for a breathing spell. The altitude did not 
seem to affect her as it did him. 

He had stopped beside a large bowlder to “catch 
his breath,’’ when he saw a big pile of small sticks 
arranged something like a magpie’s nest. Along 
the outside of what appeared to be entrance to the 
nest there were a number of bright pieces of metal, 
which on closer inspection he found to be silver and 
tin spoons, knives and forks. He looked somewhat 
puzzled, and as his companion stepped smilingly to 
his side she said : 

“You have never seen one before; have you? 
That’s a mountain rat’s nest. Those spoons and 
things you see, the rats have stolen and carried 
away from some miner’s cabin.’’ 

5 

The afternoon sun was dipping into the moun¬ 
tains of the far northwest when the climbers at last 


120 


SILVERADO 


reached the top of the peak. Here a magnificent 
view was spread out before them. Never before 
had Jennings looked upon anything so grand, so 
awe-inspiring. Looking to the north and east over 
the vast mountain region, they could trace the San 
Juan and Uncompahgre ranges, studded here and 
there with sharp, snow-capped peaks; in the wide 
expanse between these and where they stood the 
abrupt and queer-shaped rock known as Lizard 
Head stood out like a lone sentinel in the great 
stretch of mesas and mountains. Westward they 
looked far over the wide table-lands to the Blue and 
Wasatch ranges in Utah, their peaks here and there 
mingling with the hazy clouds. Southward they 
beheld the mountains of New Mexico and Arizona, 
some hidden in the summer mist and dancing like 
a mirage. 

This magnificent panorama of mountains, with the 
full canopy of heaven above and all around, was 
truly inspiring. Here was a picture of Nature in 
all her grandeur, power and sublimity, that must 
forever stamp itself upon their minds. Standing 
here upon the summit of the mountain, they felt 
within themselves something greater than will and 
deeper than mind—a spirit, a soul, that lifted them 
above earthly things. 

Silently thus they stood there for some moments, 
both appearing lost to themselves. He had taken 
hold of her hand, but apparently she was not con¬ 
scious of it. When she awoke from her day dream 
she blushingly looked up into his face. No words 
were spoken, but their eyes revealed the secret of 
their hearts, as the clear blue sky gradually turned 


SILVERADO 


121 


a deep gray when the sun began to sink behind the 
far-away northwestern mountains—a scene of peace 
and sublimity. 

6 

Surely the climb to this elevation was well worth 
the effort. Though somewhat fatigued from the 
long walk, the grandeur of the scene seemed to re¬ 
fresh them and make them forget their weariness. 
So intent and absorbed had they been in the scene 
before them that they had not observed the time, 
and when Jennings looked at his w.atch it was past 
six o’clock. 

“We must be starting back or we will have to 
ride home alone,” he said. 

They were almost back at timberline when, lo6k- 
ing down the valley of the West Dolores, they saw 
black clouds gathering and they heard the low, rum¬ 
bling noise of distant thunder. Evidently a storm 
was advancing from the southwest. They seemed 
to be above the clouds, for far below in the distance 
they saw the flashes of lightning and rain falling. 

“ We must hurry,” she said, “or we shall be 
caught in the storm.” 

Descending the mountain was found to be more 
tiresome than the climbing, especially now that 
they were trying to hurry. In climbing they had 
taken their own leisure time; now they had to race 
against the approaching storm. 

They had barely reached the timbered section 
when a strong wind began blowing ; the flashes of 
lightning became more frequent; the sky overhead 
grew dark, and drops of rain began falling. The 


122 


SILVERADO 


wind increased in velocity, and there was a mourn¬ 
ful sound among the trees as their tops bent under 
its sway and their limbs trembled and rubbed 
against each other. 

It grew so dark that they could scarcely find their 
way through the trees and thickets of underbrush. 
Jennings feared they would be lost before they 
could reach the place where they had left the picnic 
party. He remembered that there was an old cabin 
near the clearing, and in this he hoped they would 
find shelter. Now and then the flashes of lightning 
lit up the scene, but following each flash the black¬ 
ness seemed more dense. 

Now the storm burst upon them in all its fury ! 

5 

She clung to him like a sister, lest in the darkness 
they should be separated, but she gave no signs of 
fear, nor uttered she any cry of distress. While he 
was somewhat disturbed in mind because of the 
position he found himself in, she seemed to be taking 
in the situation as a great adventure. He could not 
but admire the spirit and pluck of the girl. 

Suddenly the neighing of horses reached their 
ears, and a vivid flash of lightning revealed to them 
a cabin, near which were two horses, saddled and 
tied to a tree. Evidently they had been left there by 
their friends in hopes that they would reach the 
place before the storm overtook them. 

It was now out of the question to try to reach 
town through the storm, even with the horses at 
their disposal. There was nothing to do but to take 
refuge in the cabin. 


SILVERADO 


123 


The cabin had not been occupied for some time, 
but the roof seemed to shed the water, for it was 
dry inside. There was a fire-place at one end, a 
rude table in the center, and a bunk made of spruce 
boughs in one corner. There were some ends of 
logs in the fire-place, and Jennings soon had a fire 
going, which lit up as well as warmed the place. 

He went outside and unsaddled the horses and 
saw that they were securely tied for the night. As 
the storm abated the animals became less resless, 
and with their saddles removed they seemed to un¬ 
derstand that they were to remain there for the 
night. 

8 

The hour was close to midnight. Stillness reigned 
supreme outside. Nature seemed to be in perfect 
repose at last. The sky cleared and the stars came 
out in that brilliancy seen only in high altitudes. 
Inside the cabin Jennings and his companion had 
been conversing and reviewing the events of the 
day and wondering if the rest of their party had 
reached town before the storm came upon them. 
There had been a brief lull in their conversation 
when he turned to her and said: 

“ I have something on my mind that I have been 
thinking about all day. I—” 

Her face colored, but in the faint glimmer of the 
log fire he did not discern it. She did not know 
what he was going to say, and yet she thought he 
might tell her something that her womanly intuition 
had told her was true, though she would rather 
that he say nothing about it at this time. She was 
not a little embarrassed to be in her present situa- 


124 


SILVERADO 


tion, but what could she do ? She knew that he was 
an honorable man and had no fears as to her safety; 
she trusted him implicitly, but was worried by the 
thought that there might be some talk about it by 
the busy-bodies of the town when it became known 
that she had spent the night alone with him in a 
miner’s cabin. 

“You told me once,” he continued, “that your 
mother was twice married. What I want to ask 
you, if I may, is: Was Reed the name of your own 
father or that of your stepfather ?” 

She was somewhat taken back by the unexpected 
question ; but after a moment’s thougt she replied 
in a voice that had just a little quiver in it: “ My 
stepfather’s name was Reed. My own father’s name 
I have not heard since I was a little child and I have 
forgotten it. Mother never mentioned it to me.” 

“If you heard it now, do you think you would 
remember?” he said. Then after a pause: “Was 
it Rattek ?” 

“Ratteck? Ratt-eck?” she repeated slowly, as 
if trying to peer into memory’s forgotten chambers. 
“Yes, I believe that was it.” 

“Then I have solved the problem. Your long-lost 
brother was in our party to-day. The young miner 
who is working for Harmon and me in the Snelle 
mine.” 

“ Oh, Mr. Jennings, how can it be ?” 

“ I have learned things from him and others, 
which, I think, prove beyond a doubt your rela¬ 
tionship.” 

Then he related how he had first been impressed 
by the striking family resemblance between Dan 


SILVERADO 


125 


and her ; what he had learned concerning Dan’s past 
life, and what the old Cornish miner had told him 
about their family history. 

“ How wonderful! And you have been working 
all this time to find this out. Why ?” 

“ Because I thought it would make you happy to 
find your brother. Besides, I took a liking to Dan 
when I first met him, and it grieved me so to see 
him wasting his young life—living as he was. He 
seemed to think it mattered not, since he was all 
alone in the world, without kith or kin, so far as he 
knew. If you really are his sister, as I now believe 
you are, you will be able to make a man of him. He 
is open-hearted and good natured, and your influ¬ 
ence over him will do wonders.” 

“ Oh, I can hardly wait for mother to come!” she 
exclaimed. “We shall know for sure then—she 
will know, when she sees him.” 

9 

Shortly before the break of day, Miss Reed, not¬ 
withstanding the excitement caused by the sudden 
revelation of the possibility of having found her 
long-lost brother, had fallen asleep upon the bunk 
where she had been reclining when Jennings related 
his story. He spread his coat over her shoulders 
and covered her feet with one of the saddle blan¬ 
kets. Then he seated himself on one of the logs in 
front of the fire-place, and thus he slept or dozed 
until the sun was well up over the tops of the 
mountains to the east. 

The horses outside stomping their feet and neigh¬ 
ing awakened him with a start. He arose and 


126 


SILVERADO 


looked out. A man on foot, with a burro packed 
with bedding and miner’s tools, was passing down 
the trail where it skirted the edge of the little park. 

Miss Reed was still asleep and he did not disturb 
her, but went out to quiet the horses, and untied 
them and led them to the little mountain brook and 
watered them, then tethered them where the grass 
was the thickest. 

As he was returning to the cabin he heard a shout, 
and looking down the trail he saw Frank and Dan 
approaching on horseback. 


CHAPTER XIV 

SNELLE’S LAST BLAST. 

1 

It was near the end of the month of August. 
Snelle and his assistant in the mine, Dan, had been 
doing full time every day, working faithfully and 
making good headway on the cross-cut tunnel that 
they were driving on the Little Sallie. The old 
miner was growing more and more enthusiastic 
every day about their work as well as optimistic 
in anticipation of the result. He had it all figured 
out that they would soon strike the vein. 

* “And then,” he said one morning as they were 
starting to work, slapping Dan on the shoulder, 
“and then our fortune is made. And Sallie shall 
haf that musical education!” Then with another 
slap and in a somewhat lower voice, his eyes glow¬ 
ing and his face wrapt in a broad smile: “The boys 
shall be able to buy a new printing outfit with a 
steam engine, and you and me shall celebrate with 
a bottle of champagne!” 

“Well, Uncle,” replied Dan, with a broad grin 
on his face, “we’ll hit her a hard lick to-day, any¬ 
how. Another big shot may turn the trick.” 

“ Yes, my boy ; and somehow my mind tells me 
that this day will be the last that I shall haf to 
work so hard.” 

Towards the end of the afternoon the two miners 
had prepared the last blast for the day and were 


128 


SILVERADO 


waiting at the opening of the tunnel for the report 
of its explosion. They waited and listened for two, 
three, five minutes; then concluded that the fuse 
had gone out. After a moment’s hesitation Snelle 
started back into the tunnel. Dan, remembering 
how his father had been killed, cautioned the old 
miner to wait a few minutes longer, but he went 
on, and Dan followed close behind him. 

They reached the “breast” of the tunnel, and 
Snelle, with a lighted candle in his hand, stooped to 
examine and relight the fuse. The next instant Dan 
saw a flash of powder and felt its hot breath upon 
his face. There was a loud explosion and an ava¬ 
lanche of earth and rock. Then all was darkness— 
deep, impenetratable darkness, such as he had never 
experienced before. 

“ Uncle !” he cried, “ where are you ?” 

There was no response. 

“ Uncle!” he cried again in despair ; then he fell 
as one in a swoon. 


2 

When Dan awoke he felt himself chilled and stiff, 
and as he stretched out his hand to arise he felt the 
hand of one cold as in death. He sat up and rubbed 
his eyes, as one aroused from a long sleep. His eyes 
burned as if coals of fire had been placed upon them. 
He tried to recall the events of the day, not realiz¬ 
ing at first where he was. Why this impenetrat¬ 
able darkness? In his mind he saw Snelle stoop to 
light the fuse—then it dawned upon him what had 
happened. The flash, the blast! Yes, it had gone 
off ! And he had touched the hand of Snelle, who 


SILVERADO 


129 


lay there dead; and the light in his own eyes had 
been burnt out! He threw himself upon the dead 
body of his companion, which lay there half buried 
beneath the rock and dirt, and groaned as one in 
intense anguish and despair. Would not death have 
been preferable to a life of blindness and helpless¬ 
ness ? Oh, he thought, that he could die then and 
there and rest with Snelle in the bosom of Mother 
Earth! 

But as long as there is life there is hope. This 
has ever been true of man, even in dire extremity. 
In the struggle for existence, the ever-burning de¬ 
sire to live and conquer has spurred him on in face 
of misfortune, obstacles and disaster, to begin anew 
the struggle. But for this “undying fire” in his 
breast, man probably long ago would have become 
extinct and disappeared from earth. 

Now fully realizing his situation, Dan gathered 
himself together, arose and with his hands on the 
wall of the tunnel tried ,to find his way out. 

3 * 

Sallie had supper all prepared and was waiting 
for her grandfather and Dan to come down from 
the mine. Now and then she would go to the door, 
singing all the while, and look up the trail to see if 
they were coming. It was long past the usual time 
for their return. They must have decided to work 
overtime, she concluded. Finally she began to grow 
restless. Had some accident happened in the mine? 
She took the lantern that was hanging behind the 
cabin door, and ran up the trail towards the mine. 

She had lit the lantern and was about to enter 


130 


SILVERADO 


the tunnel when she looked up and saw Dan stag¬ 
gering towards her as if drunk, his hands extended 
in front of him like a man trying to feel his way in 
the dark. His eyes looked sunken and misty, and 
his face was black as if burned with powder and 
smoke. 

“ Oh, Dan,” she cried, ‘‘what has happened ?” 

‘‘The blast,” he said in a muffled voice scarcely 
audible; ‘‘the blast—it went off, and I’m—blind!” 

‘‘And Grandpa—?” 

“In there,” he said, extending his hand in the 
tunnel. 

Guided by the lantern, the girl rushed into the 
mine, her eyes cast on the floor until the light 
rested on and was reflected at the “ breast ” of the 
tunnel. Another step and her foot touched the body 
of her grandfather, lying there where the blast had 
ended his life. An agonizing cry escaped her lips : 

“ Oh, Grandpa ! Dead ! Dead ! What shall I do!” 

Dropping the lantern, she fell over the body, her 
arms oustretched as if to embrace it. She wept as 
she had never wept before ; it seemed that her heart 
would break. The light in the lantern had gone 
out, and now all was darkness, gloom and despair. 

The last blast had done its fatal work! 

4 

In the stillness of the night, with none to disturb 
him, Harmon was preparing “copy” for the next 
isssue of the Record. The hands of the little alarm 
clock on the table were about to meet at the top, 
indicating the hour of midnight, when he heard a 
faint rap at the door. He was used to having some 


SILVERADO 


131 


of the “ boys ” drop in at this late hour, so without 
taking his eyes from the sheet of paper upon which 
he was writing, he said : “ Come!” 

Imagine his amazement when he looked up and 
saw Sallie standing there before him with tears 
in her eyes. 

“Sallie!” he cried, springing to his feet and 
grasping the hands of the girl. “ Sallie,” he re¬ 
peated, “what brings you here at this time of night? 
What’s gone wrong?” 

He threw his arms about her, then stroked her 
hair in an effort to console her, and said : “Tell me, 
Sallie,” his heart beating in sympathy for the girl 
he loved with all his impulsive nature. 

“ Oh, Frank,” she said, with tears trickling down 
her cheeks, “you are the only friend I have left in 
the world. . Grandpa is d-ead !” 

“ What! When—how ?” 

Finally, between her sobs, the girl related what 
had occurred at the mine. 

He was horrified when he heard her story, but, 
as usual, he was quick to grasp the situation and 
act accordingly. He saw that a place must be found 
for Sallie at once, and relief sent to Dan, who had 
been left at the cabin, alone and blind. 

When morning came the news of the accident soon 
spread over the town, and there was a general ex¬ 
pression of sorrow for Dan as well as sympathy for 
the grief-stricken Sallie. Harmon had secured a 
room for her at the White House, and Mrs. Wake¬ 
field and Ruby tried to comfort the girl as only 
a woman can in case of sorrow and misfortune. 

Jennings was on his way to Horse Gulch at day- 


132 


SILVERADO 


break to look after Dan, while Fred Campbell, Jack 
Ralli, and two other men went to the mine to bring 
the body of Snelle to town and have it prepared 
for burial. 


5 

On the day of the funeral practically the whole 
town, including all the miners of the camp, turned 
out to pay their last respects to a man whom, hum¬ 
ble and simple though he had been, everybody loved 
because of his kindly spirit and ever-optimistic de¬ 
meanor. The service at the grave conducted by 
Jennings, since there was now no parson in camp, 
was simple yet impressive. Not a few of the rough 
and seemingly sin-hardened men who gathered at 
the bier were touched by the speaker’s words and 
tears came to their eyes. 

After reading the twenty-third Psalm, Jennings 
spoke in part as follows : 

“ When men stand at the open grave they some¬ 
times ask themselves: Why this endless stuggle for 
wealth, power and fame? For the time their hearts 
may be touched with sympathy and love, and maybe 
they secretly resolve that henceforth they will lead 
a more unselfish life and more devoted to the service 
of humanity. But the scene at the grave is soon for¬ 
gotten, and we see them again amid the tense 
struggle for existence and in the mad race for the 
power that wealth brings in this world. Spurred 
on by the ambition of such a desire, grasping greed 
all too frequently possesses them, and many lose all 
sympathy and regard for others until their heart 
shrivels and dies long before their body is laid 


SILVERADO 


133 


away to mingle with the dust. May God pity such, 
for in the conquest of the world they have lost their 
own soul! 

“ Not so with John Snelle. His outlook upon life 
was always altruistic. He lived not for himself 
alone, but for others ; he worked hard, faithfully 
and hopefully because he desired to give to those 
he loved ; he had hoped to ‘strike it rich’ because he 
wanted to make others happy. He died, as he had 
lived, with a smile on his face, passing into the 
future life with the same optimistic hopefulness that 
characterized his life here. After many years of 
struggling, enduring hardships and privations such 
as only those know who have spent years in pros¬ 
pecting and searching for gold and silver in these 
mountains, far away from the haunts of men, he is 
now at peace. His ‘fortune’ is made, and his future 
is in the hands of Him who gave him life. 

“If he had any enemies, I have never heard of 
them. Those of us who knew him best, loved him 
most. Peace to his ashes.’’ 


CHAPTER XV 

DAN MEETS HIS MOTHER. 

1 

“ Poor Dan !” This was the exclamation of his 
friends when they heard of his misfortune. Appar¬ 
ently he was doomed to grope in darkness the rest 
of his days. 

What was life to him now ? His proud young 
spirit felt humiliated when he thought that he must 
become a care on the community, for so far as he 
knew he had not a relative in the world. He 
thought of himself as a man in darkness and despair, 
and wished that he had died as had Snelle in that 
fatal blast. 

When Ruby heard of his misfortune, her first 
sympathetic impulse was to rush to his side and 
embrace him and tell him that she was his sister, 
and that he also had a mother, who would care for 
him; but, no, a second thought told her, she must 
await the arrival of her mother and learn for a cer¬ 
tainty whether or not he really was her brother. 

Dr. Landis, the leading physician of the town, had 
examined Dan’s eyes, but held out no hope that he 
would ever regain his eyesight. An operation 
might partially restore his eyes, but that would re¬ 
quire the services of the most skilled eye-specialist, 
such as could be found only in a large eastern city. 
Such services, under his present circumstances, 


SILVERADO 


135 


were not within his reach. He thought of the 
money he had squandered and foolishly thrown 
away. But, with all, he bore his misfortune with 
fortitude, and he hoped that there would still be 
something for him to do in this world even though, 
as he expressed it, his “ lights had been put out.” 
Although his physical eyes had been closed, his men¬ 
tal eyes were opened; he had come to himself. 

2 

A week after Snelle’s funeral Ruby’s mother ar¬ 
rived, and a few days later Jennings arranged a 
meeting between her and Dan. He wanted to prove 
conclusively whether or not Dan was her son and 
brother to Ruby, so he had invited Ralli, the old 
miner from Georgetown, to be present. 

Mrs. Reed was a small woman, with a kind and 
motherly face, though there was a touch of sadness 
in her features that must have told of some misfor¬ 
tune or unhappy experience in her past life. Her 
snow-white hair made her appear older than she 
really was. When Jennings first met her he was 
impressed by her soft, sweet voice and large, ex¬ 
pressive eyes, reading therein the same love and 
devotion that he had often seen in his own moth¬ 
er’s eyes. 

Jennings had approached the subject of her lost 
boy with caution, and when he finally told her all 
he knew about Dan’s life, tears came into her eyes 
as she said : “ I should know the boy if I saw him, 
for he looked so much like his father ; he had the 
same clear blue eyes, and both had a peculiar mark 
on their left shoulder.” 


136 


SILVERADO 


Mrs. Reed and Ruby were seated in the parlor of 
the White House when Jennings walked in, leading 
Dan by the hand and accompanied by Ralli. Dan 
had not been informed as to the purpose of their 
call, and felt not a little embarrassed when he was 
introduced to the ladies. Had he been able to see, 
he probably would have blushed, so unaccustomed 
was he to the society of gentle folk. 

After they were all seated Jennings said : “Mrs. 
Reed, Mr. Ralli has told me that he knew you in 
Georgetown when you were Mrs. Rattek. Perhaps 
you remember him ?” 

“ Oh, yes—and this is Jack Ralli ? You as well 
I have changed since then, so do not wonder that I 
did not know you at first.” 

“ Quite natural, ma’am, after all these years. 
Dan, too, poor boy, has changed. And our little 
‘Baby Blue-eye’—I wouldn’t have known her.” 

There was a moment’s silence, daring which Mrs. 
Reed looked steadily into the face of the blind young 
man sitting there before her. “Can it be?” she 
questioned herself. “Yes, there is such a remark¬ 
able resemblance.” 

Jennings arose and laid his hand on Dan’s shoul¬ 
der, saying: 

“ I’m sorry we could not have had this meeting 
before your accident, Dan. But, thank God, you are 
alive, and a new light may come into your life. I 
will ask you to remove your coat, so we may ex¬ 
amine your left shoulder.” 

The coat was removed, his shirt unbuttoned and 
the collar turned down, revealing a small locket 
around his neck. Dan did not understand this pro- 


SILVERADO 137 

cedure nor what it all meant, but he submitted 
without a murmur. 

“ What is this you carry around your neck, Dan?” 
queried Jennings. 

“ It’s a charm Dad gave me when I was a little 
kid in Nevada. He told me to keep it to my dying 
day ; it might bring me good luck, he said, but it 
didn’t,” replied Dan. “ But I don’t understand 
what you are up to. Are you going to examine me 
for life insurance ?” 

Mrs. Reed arose to her feet with a cry of surprise. 
The young man’s shoulder had been bared, showing 
a small birthmark in the shape of the letter “V.” 

“ My boy!” she exclaimed, throwing her arms 
around him. “And there is the locket your father 
gave me before we were married ; it has the picture 
of his mother. My boy ! My boy !” 

Dan was overcome with emotion as well as em¬ 
barrassment. He was not used to having a loving 
woman’s arms around his neck. It was an entirely 
new experience to him. 

“Mother! Mother!” he cried. “ Have I found 
a mother at last ? And now my eyes have gone 
out so I can’t see her. Oh, my God !” 

He held her in his strong arms, while the tears 
rolled down his cheeks. 

Jennings and Ruby looked on this touching scene 
in silence, but their eyes were moist with tears. 
His heart touched with sympathy for Dan, the old 
miner bowed his head and wept. 


CHAPTER XVI 

A FOREST FIRE AND WHAT FOLLOWED 

1 

Summer, the most delightful season in the moun¬ 
tains, was gone ; Fall, with her clear blue skies and 
gorgeous coloring of the foliage on the mountain 
slopes and in the gulches, was passing, and grim old 
Winter, with his icy breath, was approaching. 

One Saturday afternoon Harmon and Sallie rode 
up to the old Snelle cabin in Horse Gulch to put 
things away for the winter. Sallie had not been 
there since the day her grandfather met his death 
in the mine. She gathered together some of her 
personal belongings, while Harmon walked up to 
the mine, collected the picks and drills and stowed 
them away in the tool box at the mouth of the 
tunnel. 

As he was crossing the little gulch that inter¬ 
sected the trail on his way back to the cabin he felt 
the air growing unusually hot and oppressive, and 
looking back over his left shoulder he noticed that 
great clouds of black smoke were rolling over the 
mountain from the southwest. There was a rum¬ 
bling noise that sounded like distant thunder. When 
he reached the cabin he saw sheets of flame burst¬ 
ing out over the ridge and sweeping rapidly down 
the mountain towards him. 

“A forest fire !” he exclaimed, rushing into the 


SILVERADO 139 

cabin. “Come quick, Sallie, or we shall be cre¬ 
mated alive!” 

Hurriedly picking up her bundle of clothes, Sallie 
took hold of his hand and together they ran down 
the trail towards the place where their horses had 
been tied to a tree. But they found the horses 
gone; evidently they had broken the halters when 
they heard the fire approaching and had fled for 
their lives. Harmon knew that there is nothing 
like a forest fire to strike terror to all animal life. 

That stifling air and crackling sound had created 
a panic among the inhabitants of the forest. All 
living things—birds, chipmunks and squirrels, deer 
and foxes, snakes and beetles—were fleeing for 
their life, for all knew too well that the fire monster 
had no mercy. Even the trees seemed to under¬ 
stand the situation, for a mournful sound was heard 
among their branches; they knew that there was 
no escape for them. 

The fire would soon reach the cabin, and Harmon 
saw that it was out of the question to try to race 
with it; they would be suffocated if not burned to 
death. The only way of saving their life was to 
take refuge in the mine. Turning their faces to¬ 
ward the fire, pushing through the heat and smoke, 
at times almost ready to give up in despair, they 
finally reached the mouth of the tunnel, exhausted 
and nearly smothered by the intensely hot air and 
dense smoke. 

When they were fairly undercover the fire broke 
out over them, the consuming flames sweeping 
down the mountain side. For a time the air inside 


140 


SILVERADO 


the tunnel was almost stifling, and they feared that 
they would be roasted alive. 

When at last the fire had spent its fury night 
came, and it was evident to Harmon that he and 
Sallie would have to remain in the mine until morn¬ 
ing. When he stepped out to the entrance of the 
tunnel he saw that, although the flames had now 
passed miles below, the whole mountain side was 
still a scene of smouldering ruins—the stumps of 
pine and spruce left charred and blackened, and the 
ground covered with a mass of smoking under¬ 
growth aud ashes. Now, here and there, a black¬ 
ened trunk would burst out anew with flame, 
lighting up the dark and desolate scene. 

2 

That was a long and dreary night Harmon and 
Sallie spent in the mine; but they counted them¬ 
selves lucky to have escaped with their lives. For¬ 
tunately, Nature, in her mighty power, came to 
relieve the situation. During the night a thunder¬ 
storm swept over the region, accompanied with a 
heavy rainfall, and when morning came the fire had 
been extinguished. 

What a shame, thought Harmon as he looked out 
over the desolation, and destruction of timber, that 
the fire had wrought. Its origin, no doubt, was the 
work of some careless camper who had failed to 
put out his campfire. He knew that millions of 
acres of our country’s valuable timber resources 
have thus been destroyed, and the natural reser¬ 
voirs of the timbered watersheds ruined, causing 


SILVERADO 141 

floods and the washing away of valuable lands in 
the valleys below. 

As he stood there that morning, the picture be¬ 
fore him impressed upon his mind the thought that 
if the people were ever brought to consider that 
the very existence of our country, the source of all 
employment of labor, and the prosperity of com¬ 
merce and industry, are dependent upon the conser¬ 
vation of our timber and water supplies, they may 
realize how woefully wasteful, as well as ignorantly 
indifferent, this nation has been in caring for its 
natural resources, and what a loss such wanton 
waste and destruction of their heritage means to 
future generations. 


3 

The month of October was nearly gone, and there 
were signs of the near approach of winter. Recent 
storms had left new snow on the mountain tops, 
and the fall winds had a chilling touch. 

A great change had taken place in Silverado, and 
compared with the busy scenes of midsummer the 
town now had the appearance of a deserted village. 
For a week or more the people had been leaving to 
spend the winter in lower altitudes. Many stores 
and saloons had been closed and their windows 
boarded up. The gamblers and their following 
were seeking new and richer fields; they said the 
town was “ too dead ” for their business. 

There had been a decided drop in the market price 
of silver bullion, and many mines had been forced 
to close down. Only those mines which produced 
a very high grade of silver ore, or where the ore 


142 


SILVERADO 


mined also carried gold or a high percentage of 
lead, were kept in operation. Consequently many 
miners were thrown out of employment and were 
leaving to seek work in other camps. Probably 
three-fourths of the population had departed. 

The slump in business naturally reduced the ad¬ 
vertising patronage of the Record , from which the 
paper derived its main income, and Jennings decided 
to return to Chicago, leaving Harmon alone to run 
the office through the winter or until such time 
when the camp should “pickup” again. There 
were a number of mines to be patented, and the 
publication of the notices would give the paper 
enough revenue to keep it alive until spring. 

The removal of so many families from town had 
reduced the school census to such an extent that it 
was necessary to employ only one teacher. Miss 
Reed, therefore, returned to Denver with her 
mother, accompanied by Dan. 

Even the White House, which heretofore had 
been kept open through the winter, was to be closed 
on the first of November, Mrs. Wakefield and her 
husband having decided to spend the winter in 
Southern California. 


4 

As for Sallie, she was learning how to set type 
in the Record office, taking the place of the boy 
“ devil,” who had gone with the general exodus. 

She was now staying with Mrs. Muncaster, who 
kept a small restaurant, and when not setting 
type in the printing office she helped her landlady 
in the kitchen or waited on the table. 


SILVERADO 


143 


Some of the busybodies were saying that Harmon 
ought to marry the girl; that it was not right for 
them to be alone together as much as they were. 
Why, it was whispered around, the two had actu¬ 
ally spent a whole night together at the Snelle cabin 
in Horse Gulch. Scandalous! 

Harmon heard this gossip, of course, but paid no 
attention to it. He felt a brother’s as well as a 
lover’s interest in Sallie, and he was trying to help 
her to become independent and self-supporting. In 
case anything should happen to him, she would not 
then be helpless. Therefore, he was teaching her 
to become a compositor, and he found her an apt 
pupil. When spring came and business picked up 
again, he would ask her to marry him. 

Sallie knew that Harmon loved her, and in her 
simple, girlish way returned his love, and yet she 
somehow felt that they ought to defer their mar¬ 
riage until Frank had made a “ stake.” True, that 
time seemed a long way off now. The Little Sallie, 
which was to have made them all rich, had not 
been worked since the day her grandfather met his 
death. The mine was now classed with hundreds 
of other abandoned claims. 

Apparently, the Spanish castles that Harmon and 
his group of friends had been building in the years 
past had crumbled or faded away in the mist of 
hopes deferred. 


CHAPTER XVII 

HARMON MEETS DISAPPOINTMENT. 

1 

Standining at the printer’s case alone, when 
Harmon was out hustling for business or news 
items, the room perfectly quiet except for the 
“click ” of the type as it dropped into the composing 
stick, a touch of despondency sometimes came to 
Sallie, and she wondered why it was that some folk, 
like those rich people who came to camp in summer 
time to enjoy themselves at hunting or fishing, 
seemed to have everything they wanted, while 
others had to work hard and long and then have 
little more than enough to eat and a few clothes to 
wear. She had heard Parson Hogue say that “we 
are all God’s children.” Why, then, did God let 
some of His children go hungry, while others had 
more than they could use ? She had never studied 
economics, and the word itself would have been 
Greek to her; but she felt in her heart that there 
was economic wrong and social injustice in the 
world, although, like millions of other and older 
heads, she had no more an idea of what should be 
done to set things right than she would have known 
how to reach the moon. 

Why did her dear, good, old Grandpa have to be 
killed, when those wicked gamblers and saloon¬ 
keepers were permitted to live on and on without 


SILVERADO 


145 


ever doing a day’s honest work? She knew how 
hard her grandpa had worked for years up there in 
the mine, so he might some day send her away to 
school; but now that dream, too, was dispelled. 

Then, again, the thought came to her, why could 
she not strike out in the world alone, and make her 
own way to fame and fortune. Other girls had 
done it; why not she. There was an uncle living in 
Chicago (her father’s brother); perhaps he would 
help her. But Chicago was such a big city—how 
could she ever find him? 

Thus she would muse until Frank came in, hum¬ 
ming or whistling some popular air and smiling. 
Sometimes he would say : • 

“ What makes you look so serious, Sallie? Don’t 
worry; we will be wearing diamonds some day.” 

Then her face would light up with a laugh, and 
when he kissed her she thought she could never 
leave him. He had always been so kind to her, as 
well as to Grandpa ; and what was more, she knew 
that he loved her. 

2 

The dull and monotonous winter days passed. 
Sometimes Sallie imagined herself on the operatic 
stage, with honors showered upon her and thou¬ 
sands applauding her song. How glorious and what 
joy such an achievement would bring! This seemed 
to have been her dream ever since she could remem¬ 
ber. How often, up there in Horse Gulch, had she 
sung to the birds in the trees, and they had re¬ 
sponded with their own song as if they wanted to 
give her an encore. 


146 


SILVERADO 


Then there came the picture of her marriage to 
Frank and a little home in the mining camp. Babies 
would come, and all the cares of a young wife and 
mother would be hers. Hard work with poverty 
as the reward would be her lot for the rest of her 
life, and Frank, too, would have to work so much 
harder to supply the needs of the family. But, 
after all, with his love and devotion, might not that 
be made a happier life than the worldly life of fame 
and fortune ? 

No, ambition would whisper, why should she not 
plan and strive to cultivate the talent God had given 
her and satisfy the yearning of her soul ? The fam¬ 
ily life was not for her; at least not now. If Frank 
really loved her, he would wait until she had become 
famous and rich ; then they could be married and 
“ live happily ever afterward,” as she had read in 
the story books. 

Harmon knew nothing of what was passing 
through the girl’s mind, though at times he noticed 
a dreamy, far-away look in her eyes. It was the 
loss of her grandfather, he thought, that still 
grieved her. 


3 


Christmas came, and Sallie went to a ranch down 
the river to spend the holidays with a girl friend. 
New Year’s passed, but she had not returned to 
Silverado. Harmon was getting uneasy about her 
and thought of sending a messenger to bring her 
back. Then came a letter, post-marked Denver, from 
her. It was brief, but never before had he felt so 
“ down and out ” as he did after reading it. 


SILVERADO 


14? 


“ Dear Frank,” Sallie had written, “when you 
read this I will be in or near Chicago. Don’t try 
to find me. I love you as much as ever, but I’m 
going to make my way in the world alone. When 
I am rich and famous I will come back to you. 
Good-bye.” 

“Foolish girl,” he murmured to himself; “but 
it’s my own fault. I should have married her, and 
this would not have happened.” 

His first impulse was to drop everything and 
start for Chicago at once. No, he thought, after 
she has had a taste of the strenuous city life and 
bumped up against the real thing of trying to make 
a living in a strange city and without friends, she 
would probably come back without his seeking her. 

But he felt discouraged and heart-broken. 

“ What’s the use !” he cried. He felt as if he had 
lost all ambition, and as he left the office he said to 
himself: “ This life is but a gamble, after all, and 
I’m going to stay in the game.” 

That night he sought his former companions at 
the gambling table, and the resolutions he had made 
before Jennings left him were forgotten. 

Drink? Yes, he tried to drown his disappoint¬ 
ment in liquor, and tobacco was his almost constant 
solace. He began to lose interest in his business, 
and the Record did not appear regularly on time as 
in days agone. He was losing his influence in the 
community, but there was none to warn him of his 
danger. His life-long friend and adviser, Sandy 
Campbell, had gone with the rest—gone to Chicago 
to take a special course in chemistry and economics. 
He felt as one who had lost all his friends. 


148 


SILVERADO 


4 

The days passed and Harmon felt that he was 
losing his grip on life. Then something happened 
that awakened him to a realization of his danger. 
One cold morning, Ferg Graham, the stage driver, 
who had been drunk the night before, was found 
lying in the rear of a saloon, dead. 

So far he had had strength enough to keep from 
getting drunk ; but, he asked himself, where would 
drinking and gambling eventually land him ? He 
thought of Ferg, who in his drunken stupor, had 
frozen to death. 

Then he thought of Jennings, whom he had loved 
as a brother and whose good influence he still felt at 
times. He could not forget the helpful qualities of 
his character. What would his friend think of 
him now ? 

5 

One evening as he sat alone in his “den,” he 
thought of Jennings and the promises he had made 
when they parted. Was he such a weakling that 
he could not keep a promise ? he questioned him¬ 
self. No ; he would stick to his resolution, and 
drink no more intoxicants. He would not throw 
away his life because a girl had gone out of it. But 
from now on and forever more he would never 
trust a woman ; he would become a woman-hater. 
If a pure, simple, innocent girl like Sallie could de¬ 
ceive a man, who could have any faith in woman¬ 
kind ? Not he. 

But he would show the gossips of Silverado that 
he was still a man, with courage to live down his 
disappointment. His prospects of making a fortune 


SILVERADO 


149 


at mining had gone glimmering, and the only girl 
that he had ever loved was gone—gone, he knew 
not where ; but he determined then and there that 
he would no longer live in the gloom of disappoint¬ 
ment or under the shadow of despair. He remem¬ 
bered Uncle John Snelle had once told him that in 
the road of experience failure often marks the turn¬ 
ing point to the goal of success. He had now come 
to a point where he must decide for himself what 
his future should be—success or failure. 

He loved the work of running a newspaper ; he 
had been brought up in a printing office, and come 
what may, he thought, the secret of real happiness 
was to keep busy at some useful work. As his 
philosophical bachelor friend, Sandy Campbell, had 
often told him, “life is always worth living to the- 
man who loves his work, and time never drags nor 
does life ever seem monotonous to those who are 
ever working, thinking, learning and growing.” 


CHAPTER XVIII 

JENNINGS IN CHICAGO. 

1 

Another year had passed; another summer and 
winter had come and gone since Jennings left the 
little Colorado mountain town. It is now spring¬ 
time, glorious springtime, when all things, it 
seemed to him, not only take new life but a new 
hold upon life’s ever-present problems. Nature her¬ 
self at this season, he thought, inspires new hopes 
and new ambitions within us to do and to develop. 

It had been an unusually severe winter in the 
East and Middle West. At least so thought Jen¬ 
nings, and he welcomed Spring as he never had 
before. He was now living in Chicago, and through 
the winter had held a position on the staff of the 
Inter-Ocean as reporter. His work had called him 
out in all kinds of weather ; he had become familiar 
with all parts of the busy, growing city, which was 
now planning and preparing for the great World’s 
Fair, and he had learned much about its social and 
industrial life. 

He had had a chance to study the life of the people 
in the big city and frequently had compared this 
strenuous life with that of the small town. His 
experience in the mining town had taught him a 
few things, but the big city had sharpened his wits 
and broadened his views. He had learned that. 


SILVERADO 151 

after all, the problems of men are much the same 
the world over. 

He had come to the conclusion that the big city 
was only the small town grown up ; it had the same 
problems relating to life and work as the small 
town, only on a larger scale. The people were up 
against the same thing everywhere; for the masses 
life was mainly a struggle for existence, while for 
the so-called higher-ups it was a scheme of how to 
exploit the worker arid profit by another man’s 
labor. In the days of the cave man it had been a 
question of the survival of the physically strongest; 
now it was the supremacy of brain power over 
mere brute force. In the mining town the gam¬ 
blers and speculators had raked in most of the 
earnings of the miners; in the industrial and com¬ 
mercial centers the money kings; the captains of 
industry and the land monopolists were reaping the 
greater part of the rewards of toil. 

Economic error and social injustice were found 
everywhere, and so far as Jennings could see there 
was no practical, concerted effort being made to 
right things. He had often thought of what Sandy 
Campbell had said that night in Silverado before 
Parson Hogue’s departure. Perhaps Sandy was 
not such a “ crank” after all. True, as the Parson 
had said, the Church had been trying to make the 
world better by preaching the gospel of Jesus, but 
how few even among those who openly professed 
to be His disciples lived the life of his teachings. 
Was it because under the present economic system 
of competition and profit it was not possible to live 
the Christ-life in every-day business ? 


152 


SILVERADO 


He had asked himself: How could the Church 
ever hope to redeem man morally and spiritually 
until it had first established an economic system 
that would abolish private monopoly and set men 
free and give them that economic security which 
would insure their physical well being, liberating 
them from their present condition of having to de¬ 
vote most of their time and thought to keeping the 
material body from want and starvation ? 

It seemed to him that the Church had too often 
forgotten that man is first an animal, and unless his 
animal needs and instincts are first served it is im¬ 
possible to arouse his moral and spiritual nature. 
The Master Himself well understood this when He 
fed the five thousand. 

2 

Jennings had not returned to Silverado the spring 
following his departure therefrom, as he had 
planned. He had learned from Harmon that the 
camp was still quite “dead,” therefore there had 
been no call for his return. “ Silver mining ap¬ 
pears to be played out,” Harmon had written to 
him; “since the metal has been demonetized by 
Congress it won’t pay to mine it. If the ‘ money 
power ’ has its way, it is not likely that silver will 
ever be remonetized. But just why our govern¬ 
ment should want to destroy the silver mining 
industry, I cannot understand, but it has, while at 
the same time it is fostering by high tariffs indus¬ 
tries of less importance. I am advising our miners 
to turn their attention to prospecting for gold.” 

So Jennings had come to the conclusion that 


SILVERADO 


158 


until some cheaper and improved method of mining 
and reduction of the ore was discovered, silver min¬ 
ing must necessarily lag and decline. He saw that 
millions of dollars that had been expended in shafts, 
tunnels and stopes in the silver mining regions had 
been lost and wasted, for silver as a money metal 
or standard of value was a thing of the past. He 
did not pretend to know whether or not this would 
prove best for business and industry. It was then 
an open question, and it was not until some years 
later that it became a political issue. 

One thing, however, was clear to him: his dream 
of wooing and winning Dame Fortune among those 
mountain gulches had vanished. He had come to 
himself completely and now realized that there was 
nothing for him to do but to get down to real hard 
work, grubbing for money and hoping, at the same 
time, to gain some success or distinction in the 
newspaper field, for he counted success not alone in 
money-getting but in devoting his talents and means 
in helping others less fortuanate than he. And yet 
he knew that under the present system money was 
a very necessary thing to have in order to accom¬ 
plish anything worth while. 

It appeared to his mind that the saying that the 
love of money is the root of all evil had been mis¬ 
interpreted. It is not the money itself that is an 
evil, but the love of money. The miser loves his 
money, but the sane and sensible person makes good 
use of it in supplying the needs, comforts and plea¬ 
sures of life. In his childhood he had heard some 
of the silly preachment about the “ blessings of 
poverty,” but like every other child he had soon 


154 


SILVERADO 


learned that poverty is not a blessing but a curse. 
He thought it was hypocritical for a rich man to 
assume that God intended that some people should 
be rich and others forever remain poor. Man’s own 
instinct as well as every force in nature told him 
that such a doctrine was false. The very thought 
of poverty begets poverty, and Jennings knew from 
his own observations that poverty is the cause of 
much of the crime in the world. 

His mother had died just before Christmas, and 
now that he had only himself to care for, which was 
an easy matter, his ambition was to get such a hold 
upon life that he might master some of its problems 
and be of some real service to the world. To him 
there seemed so much to be done in order to set 
things right that the big problem was to find the 
point of beginning. 


3 

Then came thoughts of Ruby—had she no place 
or interest in his life ? Oh, yes; they had corre¬ 
sponded for a time after they left Silverado ; but 
after a few months her letters had stopped coming, 
and he had come to the conclusion that maybe some 
young mining millionaire had captured the school 
teacher’s heart. He had never fully laid bare his 
own heart to her ; then how could he blame her if 
she had given hers to one less faint-hearted than he 
had been. Since his mother’s death he felt the need 
of a woman’s love and companionship, but none of 
the girls he had so far met in the city had had any 
attraction for him. 

He was now maintaining bachelor quarters in a 


SILVERADO 


155 


South Side apartment house, where his newspaper 
friends and Press Club members would frequently 
gather when off duty and play whist, talk “shop,” 
or discuss politics, religion and social problems. 
When on the “ job ” they had to write mostly what 
the man above or the business office dictated, but 
here they were free to express their own honest 
views and opinions. It would probably have sur¬ 
prised the “ boss ” if he could have heard some of 
those discussions by the men who were moulding 
public opinion, under general orders, for the people 
of a great city who were supposed to do a little 
thinking for themselves. But for their own good 
it was best that he should not hear all that was 
said here, because some of them would probably 
have lost their job if he had. 

4 

Whether it was his daily mingling with the self¬ 
ish, unsympathetic world or the loss of his mother’s 
companionship, or both, Jennings did not know ; 
but he had become somewhat skeptical in matters 
that formerly he had never questioned, especially in 
matters pertaining to religion. Not that he had 
lost his grip on the simple teachings of the Lowly 
Nazarene, or what his mother bad taught him; but 
he began to see much in what was commonly called 
religion that was unreasonable and unbelievable to 
the enlightened mind. It occurred to him that cer¬ 
tain creeds and dogmas may have served a good 
purpose in times past; but in these enlightened days, 
when Science is teaching the world many valuable 
truths, there seemed to be need of another great 


156 


SILVERADO 


religious reformer. The world, he thought, needed 
a bringing back to the fundamental teachings of 
Jesus, and the putting away of some of the things 
that had no real bearing on man’s life and conduct 
here on earth. If religion could not be made a real 
living factor in every-day life it was not worth 
spending any time over on Sunday. He could see 
where the Bible and even the simple teachings of 
the Master had been misinterpreted. There should 
be no conflict between Science and the Christian 
religion, if both were rightly interpreted. 

He had seen much of the shams and insincerity of 
so-called society. He had been shocked by the hy¬ 
pocrisy of those who made pretensions of being fol¬ 
lowers of the humble Christ, and his eyes had been 
opened to the social and economic injustice of the 
modern world. As a newspaper reporter he had 
seen life in all its phases and stages and conditions. 
He had visited the section on the northwest then 
known as the “ Little Hellhe had been detailed 
to write stories about happenings “back of the 
Yards,’’ where he had seen hungry children raking 
among the garbage piles for scraps of food; he had 
noted the drunken men and debauched women on 
Ashland avenue; he had observed poorly-clad chil¬ 
dren go hungry to school in midwinter ; he had seen 
the municipal free lodging house filled with men 
who were out of employment or of the down-and- 
out class, and he had asked himself: Why should 
such things be in America, a land so great in extent 
and so rich in natural resources ? 

Having traveled over the broad valleys of the 
West and vast prairies of the Middle West he had 


SILVERADO 


157 


seen the earth giye forth food of all kinds in abun¬ 
dance, and yet there were children going hungry 
every day in Chicago. 

He was reminded of what the Savior once said— 
that “foxes have holes, the birds of the air have 
nests ; but the Son of Man hath not where to lay 
his head.” Was not the same true of millions of 
men throughout the world to-day. Why ? 

5 

His general observations had led him to the con¬ 
clusion that, owing to the intense struggle for ex¬ 
istence under the present economic order, the masses 
of the people worshipped Mammon rather than God. 
In fact, as he had heard a Chinaman express it, 
the Dollar was the “top josh” to whom most men 
bowed their heads and crooked their knees. 

He had seen that thousands were trying to work 
out the problem of how to get rich quickly or how 
to get something for nothing or with the least pos¬ 
sible effort. He had heard it said that genius goes 
hungry and finally dies in a garret; his glory comes 
after he is dead and buried. The man of modern 
“business instinct” and shrewdness in the meantime 
devises a scheme whereby to rob the inventive 
genius of his skill and labor. With the wealth thus 
acquired he piles up brick and stone and steel in 
cities like Chicago to serve as monuments of his 
greatness; but his grandchildren find that as the city 
grows his monuments are torn down to make room 
for the hordes that have no respect for their an¬ 
cestors. 

So, after all, thought Jennings, this mad race 


158 


SILVERADO 


after wealth and power, chasing fickle fortune, was 
like a pursuit of the will-o’-the wisp. The only en¬ 
during thing in this world is an undying character. 
He would not worship at the shrine of Mammon. 
He would try to so shape his life, wherever he might 
be called, that by kind acts and cheerful words he 
might inscribe his name in the hearts of his fellows. 
Good deeds, he thought, would be remembered long 
after stone monuments have crumbled, and cheer¬ 
ful words are not soon forgotten. 

6 

One day Jennings was returning from the West 
Side, where he had been given an assignment by 
the city editor, when he stopped for a moment at 
the corner of State and Madison streets, “the busiest 
corner in the world,” to observe the crowds that 
were passing. It was about the noon hour, and 
thousands of human beings, representing almost 
every nationality and every walk in life, jostled and 
crowded each other, apparently trying to outdis¬ 
tance each other in spite of the congestion. Street 
crossings were blocked by cars and vehicles of all 
kinds and descriptions. The noise of the street was 
deafening, for it was before the invention and use 
of rubber tires. 

Everybody seemed to be in a hurry, and Jennings 
wondered where they were all going. None in 
that vast crowd seemed to know or recognize one 
another; they were not looking for nor did they 
expect to see anyone they knew. There were no 
“ hello, Jack !” or “ how are you, Tom,” greetings, 
so common in the small-town thoroughfares. A 


SILVERADO 


159 


visitor from Mars watching this crowd might have 
thought the people were all deaf and dumb. Yet to 
him it was a study to watch their faces—so many 
expressions, so many temperaments, so many char¬ 
acteristics of the genus homo were here revealed. 

As this seemingly mute mass of humanity rolled 
on like a swelling sea, he asked himself what was 
the impelling motive of this restless crowd, what 
spurred it on—was it the common struggle for ex¬ 
istence or the greed for the almighty dollar? Were 
all these people embued with the same spirit that 
he had noted in the West among those who endured 
privations, sacrificed honor and risked life in the 
quest of gold ? He saw that most of them were 
wage earners and the question of food was now 
uppermost in their mind. The food problem ! The 
problem of the ages, he said to himself, dating back 
to the beginning of life itself. Man’s struggle for 
existence began before the time when he lived in 
caves and hunted, not care-free or from choice, but 
because of necessity—an eternal struggle—a strug¬ 
gle to earn his bread by the sweat of his brow. He 
wondered if man will ever reach a state of develop¬ 
ment and mental efficiency when the forces of 
nature, obedient to his will and mechanical genius, 
will provide for him all his needs without the “curse 
of Adam” resting on his brow. 

7 

Jennings awoke from his reverie and started to 
cross State street, and as he looked to his right he 
saw among the crowd on the other side a girl whom 
he at once recognized to be none other than Sallie 


160 


SILVERADO 


Snelle. He tried to run across the street, but the 
mass of vehicles which the police had signalled to 
move on north would not permit him, and when he 
finally reached the other side of the street the girl 
had disappeared among the crowd moving south. 
It would be a hopeless chase to try to catch her now. 

He wondered what had brought Sallie to Chicago, 
for Harmon had said nothing about her leaving 
Silverado. Perhaps he was mistaken; it might 
have been a case of strong resemblance. Well, he 
would station himself here again and watch; he 
might catch sight of her some day at the lunch hour 
among the ever-moving crowd. 


CHAPTER XIX 

IN THE HOSPITAL. 

1 

About two o’clock, one morning in June, his 
night’s work done, Jennings was crossing Michigan 
avenue on his way to the I. C. station to take the 
suburban train for Hyde Park. When he reached 
the walk on the east side of the avenue, a large, 
strong-looking man, clad in old, worn-out clothes, 
stepped out from behind a lamp-post and in a gruff 
voice said : “ Throw up your hands!” 

Jennings stopped and was about to raise his 
hands when he recognized the man and cried: 

“ John Scott! I met you in Siverado. My name 
is Jennings.” 

The ruffian made no reply, but struck him a blow 
on the cheek that felled him to the ground, the 
back of his head striking the hard pavement. His 
ears rang with a noise like that of falling water; 
to his eyes everything turned black, and his mind 
became a blank. 

The hold-up bent over his body and riddled his 
pockets, then fled. The street was deserted at this 
early hour, and there had been none to witness the 
crime. 

Jennings lay there unconscious for how long no 
one ever knew. Finally a policeman, on his regular 
beat, came that way and saw him. 


162 


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“Another drunk,” said the guardian of the peace 
to himself and called the patrol. 

At the police station it was discovered that the 
man was not drunk but injured, and he was taken 
to the emergency hospital. There all efforts to 
bring him back to consciousness failed, and later in 
the day he was removed to the Lakeview Hospital 
on the South Side, and placed in the ward of the 
seriously injured. 

The case was one that seemed to baffle the attend¬ 
ing surgeons and physicians. While his injuries 
appeared to be trivial and his respiration was reg¬ 
ular, his eyes remained closed like one dead. There 
seemed to be little hope of his recovery or even of 
regaining consciousness. 

On the third day, as the nurse was bending over 
him, he opened his eyes and said in a whisper: 
“ Scott, why did you do this ?” He raised himself, 
looked around the place as if to inquire where he 
was; then he fell back and closed his eyes again. 

The following day he had regained full conscious¬ 
ness, but brain fever began developing, and in a 
few days his attending physician felt doubtful of 
his recovery. The record of like cases showed that 
very few ever recovered from injuries of this kind. 
His head was packed in ice, and he was given most 
careful attention by both nurses and physicians. 

He had been identified by a card found in his coat 
pocket, and many of his newspaper friends and col¬ 
leagues, when they learned of his injury, had called 
at the hospital, but had not been permitted to 
see him. The doctors had said that he must remain 
absolutely quiet and undisturbed. As the fever 


SILVERADO 


163 


developed he became delerious, and at times he 
would call “Mother;” then the name of “Ruby” 
would be whispered in the ears of his nurse. 

2 

The same week there had been brought to the 
hospital a young man from Colorado, who was to 
be operated upon for blindness. Had Jenninga seen 
him he would at once have recognized him as Dan 
Rattek, who, as the reader knows, had lost his eye¬ 
sight through an explosion in the Little Sallie mine. 
With him had come his sister, Ruby, who would 
help to nurse him after the operation. 

Miss Reed and her brother had arrived in Chicago 
the week before, and after consulting a noted eye 
specialist who had recently arrived from Berlin, 
they had decided upon an operation. If successful, 
the doctor had told them, it would at least restore 
partial eyesight. Dan was only too anxious to 
undergo anything that gave the least promise of 
enabling him to “see daylight again,” as he put it; 
while Ruby, ever hopeful and cheery, was willing 
to sacrifice everything the family had in the way of 
money or property to bring back the light to her 
brother’s eyes. 

How tender, how kind, how loving his sister had 
been to him since that day when Jennings had 
brought them together, thought Dan; but little he 
knew or surmised that at that very moment his 
friend was lying in the same hospital, struggling 
between life and death. 

The operation on Dan’s eyes proved to be what 
the surgeons called successful, but for a time the 


164 


SILVERADO 


patient had to be kept in a dimly-lighted room, with 
his eyes covered with bandages. The sister was 
almost constantly at his side, even when the regular 
nurse was there to change the bandages and apply 
drops of some solution that the surgeon had pre¬ 
scribed to be used at regular intervals. 

One day Dan was permitted to open his eyes, and 
his heart leaped with joy, for lo ! he could see again. 
It was as if the scales had fallen from his eyes. 
Truly, optical science had performed a miracle, 
thought Ruby. 

“Oh, the light has come back to my eyes,” said 
Dan with emotion ; “ thank God !” 

The surgeon who stood at his side smiled the 
smile of one who has achieved success and rendered 
a great service to his fellow man, while Ruby threw 
her arms around her brother and cried with joy. 

3 

The following day Ruby was leaving the hospital 
for a trip to the down-town district, when the head 
nurse stopped her in the hallway. 

“Miss,” she said, “ I have heard that you are 
from Colorado, and that your first name is Ruby. 
Well, we have a patient in the hospital who, at 
times when his fever is somewhat reduced, often 
repeats the name ‘Ruby.’ We understand that he 
lived out there in the mountains at one time, and 
we have been wondering if you are related—your 
name is not so common, you know.” 

“ So far as I know, I have no relatives in Chicago 
except the brother who is here in the hospital; but 
if you will permit me I will step into his ward and 
see,” said Ruby, smiling. 


SILVERADO 


165 


The nurse led her into the ward, and when Ruby 
beheld Jennings lying there, his face flushed with 
fever and his eyes in a glassy stare, her faced turned 
pale and, with a tremor in her voice, she said : 

“ Oh, yes, I know him ; but how came he here ?” 

The nurse briefly related the story of how he had 
been found in the street unconscious, apparently 
robbed and nearly killed by a ruffian, and how he 
had lingered between life and death. “ But he is 
better now,” she concluded; “the doctors say he 
will get well.” 

Ruby’s time in the hospital was now divided be¬ 
tween the two patients. One day the nurse called 
her into Jennings’ ward. His fever was gone, but 
he was still very weak. The nurse had told him 
that a friend was coming to see him, and he was 
expecting to see “one of the boys” from the office. 
When he opened his eyes and saw Ruby sitting be¬ 
side him, new life and strength seemed to come to 
him, for he reached out his hand and took hers and 
held it firmly in his own. A clear light came into 
his eyes, a smile passed over his lips. 

It seemed as if he were awakening from a long, 
deep sleep ; or, he thought, was this only a dream? 
He sat up in bed and drew her face close to his own ; 
he felt her soft breath upon his cheek, and when 
their eyes met he whispered : “ Ruby, I love you— 
have loved you all these years.” 


CHAPTER XX 

SCOTT MEETS DEATH. 

1 

Two months after Jennings had left the hospital 
there was a little party gathered at his apartment. 
It was intended to be a reunion of his old Silverado 
friends now in Chicago—Dan, Ruby, and Sandy 
Campbell. George Pennington and another of his 
closest newspaper friends had also been invited. 

Sallie had been found by Ruby a week before. 
They had met unexpectedly at one of the depart¬ 
ment stores, and before they parted Ruby had taken 
upon herself to invite Sallie to the party, and both 
Jennings and Dan were greatly surprised when 
they saw her that evening. 

Ruby had learned that Sallie was working in a 
book-bindery on Dearborn street and living with 
her uncle on the North Side; also that she was tak¬ 
ing music lessons at night from a Swedish teacher 
and singer. The girl seemed determined to acquire 
some technical knowledge of vocal music, and all 
efforts of her Silverado friends to induce her to re¬ 
turn to Colorado proved futile. Ruby had offered 
her a home in Denver, but Sallie said Chicago was 
the place for her. She appeared to be supremely 
happy, and only when the name of Harmon was 
mentioned did her face show any trace of sadness. 

During the evening Sallie was induced to favor 


SILVERADO 


167 


the party with a song or two, and those who had 
not heard her sing before marveled at the sweet¬ 
ness and volume of her voice. 

“That girl can surely sing,’’ said Pennington to 
the friend at his side. “ She ought to go on the 
stage. I’m going to try to get her to sing before 
our Lyric Club some night. You know, we might 
induce Mrs. George Millard to become interested 
in her.” 

“ Quite an idea,” said Jennings, who had over¬ 
heard the remark. “ Ever since I first heard her 
sing out there in the mountains I have thought that 
if she had a chance to cultivate her talent she would 
become world famous. What a pity it is that such 
as she are poor and must work for a living.” 

Colorado—its wonderful scenery and delightful 
summer climate—had been the principal subject of 
conversation, and before the party broke up that 
night it was mutually agreed that all would spend 
their next summer’s vacation in Silverado. Even 
Sallie said she would try to go on the proposed out¬ 
ing, “if dear old Frank wouldn’t just take her head 
off for running away.” 

The engagement of Ruby and Jennings was an¬ 
nounced to their friends that evening. They webe 
not to be married, however, until after Miss Reed 
had taught another year of school. As for Dan, as 
soon as his eyes would permit, he would take a 
course in mining engineering at the State School of 
Mines at Golden. 

2 

One evening about a week later, at the Burling¬ 
ton station, the little group of Silverado friends 


168 


SILVERADO 


were saying good-byes, when Ruby and Dan were 
leaving for Denver. Jennings saw Sallie to her 
home on the North Side before he returned to his 
own apartment, and she confided in him about her 
plans for the future. He admired the girl’s pluck 
and resolved within himself to help her all he could. 
After that they saw each other frequently. 

It was with new energy and a brighter outlook 
upon life that Jennings again took up the “ grind ” 
of the newspaper reporter. Heretofore his future 
had seemed somewhat doubtful. Since his mother’s 
death he had felt very much alone in the world, but 
now that he had become engaged to Ruby life ap¬ 
peared to be really worth while, and his brotherly 
interest in Sallie gave him real pleasure. Every 
man’s nature is such that he must have something 
to live for; it does not matter whether he is rich or 
poor, educated or ignorant. Some impelling motive 
or idea governs every man’s life, he thought. It 
may be love—love of a woman, child or, perhaps, a 
pet animal. Sometimes it is a devotion to art, 
science, business, or sport, and there are those who 
give their life to religion, philanthropy or some 
reform movement. Only the abnormal man, su¬ 
premely selfish and self-centered, will be satisfied to 
live the life of a hermit or miser. It may appear 
that some men live only to “ make a living,” but if 
we will look a little closer into their life we shall 
find that, if nothing more, they have some sort of 
“ hobby ” that is very dear to them. 

Jennings had come to the conclusion that not un¬ 
til a man has discovered the one thing which is 
worth living for has he really “ found ” himself. 


SILVERADO 

3 


169 


The weeks passed and the end of summer was at 
hand, when one day Jennings was assigned duty in 
the police court at the Harrison street station. 
There were the usual number of “drunks and dis¬ 
orderlies” to be disposed of by the judge, after 
which the examination of a man arrested for bur¬ 
glary was called. When the prisoner was brought 
in before the court Jennings at once recognized him 
as John Scott, and when the latter saw him he 
dropped his head and turned his face away. 

“You scoundrel!” cried Jennings between his 
teeth. “ So they have caught you at last!” 

The prisoner made no reply. When called before 
the judge he plead “ guilty ” to the charge of bur¬ 
glary, and was promptly sentenced to a term in the 
Cook county jail. 

As the police officer started to lead the prisoner 
out of the court room, Jennings arose and ad¬ 
dressed the court. “ Your honor, please,” he said ; 
“I know this man from old. He is an all-around 
scoundrel and criminal. He robbed me a few 
months ago and nearly killed me. When he serves 
his term out I want him re-arrested.” 

“ Young man,” replied the judge, “you will have 
to file the proper information with the district at¬ 
torney.” 

4 

Fate, however, willed that Scott should never 
again appear before an earthly court. What mercy 
the Judge of Judges showed him when he stood be¬ 
fore His bar, was not for Jennings to say. 


170 


SILVERADO 


A few weeks later, while attempting to escape 
from jail, Scott was shot and mortally wounded by 
the guard. Before he died he made a confession to 
Jennings, whom he had asked to see when he real¬ 
ized that he would die. He said that his real name 
was Evans and confessed to the murder of the father 
of Sallie Snelle. He it was who had pulled the rope 
when Bert Wilkins was hanged by the mob in 
Silverado; he also told that he had robbed the 
miners’ cabins. Since returning to Chicago his 
principal occupation had been robbery and burglary. 
Jennings shuddered when he heard the gruesome 
recital of Scott’s crimes and misdeeds. 

“The trouble was,” concluded Scott,” I got a 
wrong start in life. Being an only son, I was pam¬ 
pered and petted by a foolish mother. My father 
having plenty of ‘dough,’ I never had to work. 
My first crime broke my mother’s heart and sent her 
to an asylum to die. My father became a physical 
wreck. One crime led to another, and after while 
I got so I did not want to lead a decent life. The 
thing grew on me, and the devil seemed to have got 
me for his own. Only once in my life did I have a 
desire to reform, and that was the time I heard the 
Snelle girl sing in the big tent, you remember ; but 
fear Kept me from it. She sang so much like her 
mother, the only woman I ever loved. Then when 
I found out that old Snelle was none other than 
Siebert, her grandfather, I had to get out of Sil¬ 
verado, because I was afraid he would recognize 
me and kill me.” 

Here he paused a moment. In a fainter voice he 
continued : “ I don’t know why I struck you that 


SILVERADO 


171 


night. You had never done me any wrong, but 1 
was broke and desperate. Will you forgive me?” 

“ I forgive you,” replied Jennings; “and may God 
have mercy on your soul!” 

With a grateful look in his sunken eyes Scott 
sank back in his bed. A priest, whom he had asked 
to see, now entered, and Jennings left the place, 
turning over in his mind the confession he had just 
heard. Was not this man more brute than man ? 
And yet had he not been ‘‘created in the image of 
God?” Why had he fallen so low? 

That night the spirit passed from Scott’s body, 
and the story of his confession appeared in the Inter- 
Ocean the next day, giving that paper a “scoop” 
over its contemporaries. 


5 

When alone in his apartment a few days later, 
Jennings thought of the career of Scott as it had 
been told him, and then wondered why so many 
men go wrong and why crime, apparently, was on 
the increase. Not that all wrong-doers were caught, 
for he knew full well that people outside prison 
walls are not all good and the people inside all bad. 
He knew that there were stalking frauds and crimi¬ 
nals at large and that the law, that sacred bond of 
human justice and equity, has sometimes miscarried 
and done injustice to the innoceut. 

The passing crowd and ease-loving society, he 
thought, banishes the evil-doer from its sight and 
imagines the problem has been solved when the 
criminal has been incarcerated or paid the death 
penalty for his crime. Society for centuries has 


172 


SILVERADO 


been trying to “make the punishment fit the crime,” 
but he questioned if the world was any nearer solv¬ 
ing the problem of crime than the people of old 
were when they chopped a man’s head off for trea¬ 
son against the king and put him in jail for debt. 

Then he wondered if there would ever come an 
improved order of humanity when crime will be 
regarded as a phenomenon and, like a disease, to 
be dealt with in the spirit of Christ—humanely and 
intelligently. 


CHAPTER XXI 

ONE QUESTION LEADS TO OTHERS. 

1 

“ Sandy, do you believe in destiny ?” 

A group of Jennings’ newspaper friends, together 
with Sandy Campbell, were spending an evening at 
his apartment. They had been telling their various 
life experiences since they left home to make their 
way in the world, when Pennington propounded 
the above question. 

Campbell looked at the questioner a moment, 
then said: “I do and I don’t—depends upon what 
you mean by ‘destiny.’ I don’t believe our life is 
all laid out by the Creator at our birth, but there 
are certain things we can’t escape by reason of our 
temperament and surroundings. I believe that our 
fate or destiny is largely in our own hands. Our 
character—shaped by our thoughts and mode of 
life—is mostly our own making ; yet heredity, train¬ 
ing and environment no doubt have a greal deal to 
do with its development. And I believe character 
is what determines our final destiny or, so-called, 
fate. It has been said that opportunity knocks at 
least once at our door, but who would say that un¬ 
der our present social and economic system all have 
equal opportunity ? Yet we know there are those 
who succeed in spite of disadvantages, handicaps 
and obstructions; therefore, we sometimes think 


174 


SILVERADO 


that some are fated to be rich and others to be 
poor—some destined to be famous, others doomed 
to a life of drudgery and obscurity.” 

“Is it not true that many remain poor because 
they have no real desire to be anything else ? Don’t 
you think idleness and inefficiency are the real 
causes of poverty?” 

‘‘Yes, in some cases, but not as a rule. I can 
show you, right here in Chicago—and as a news¬ 
paper man you probably already know—that there 
are men and women, boys and girls, who work 
daily for long hours, from week to week, from 
month to month, at the full stretch of their powers, 
and yet they are poor—yes, sometimes destitute 
and most of the time close to the poverty line, for 
when there is a lull in industry and they are laid 
off for a time or their wages are cut they suffer for 
want of food and clothing. Thus they toil and 
suffer year in and year out, until old age overtakes 
them. Few there are who have laid by enough to 
keep them for the rest of their life, so they must 
become a care on their relatives or the inmates of 
the poor house. 

“Under the present system of industry the shadow 
of the wolf of want is ever at the door of the work¬ 
ing classes. The end of the average factory worker 
is the industrial scrap heap, followed by an un¬ 
happy, useless old age.” 

“ I think your picture is a little overdrawn,” said 
Pennington, “though I admit there is more poverty 
than there ought to be, especially in a land like 
ours. But there seems to be no cure for it, or our 
modern civilization ought to be able to solve the 


SILVERADO 


175 

problem. With the marvelous inventions in ma¬ 
chinery and the great improvement in industrial 
production—with all these things taken into con¬ 
sideration, it would seem that poverty in time would 
disappear.” 

“ Yet we know that it is not,” replied Campbell, 
“ but rather it is increasing with the increase in 
population. As for improved machinery, I think it 
was John Stuart Mill who said he doubted if ma¬ 
chinery had lightened the burden of any toiler. If 
this be true, I think it is because man has become 
the slave of the machine, instead of the machine be¬ 
coming the slave of man, as it should be. 

“ Take our own country. We all know some¬ 
thing about its wonderful resources, its marvelous 
capacity for production of everything that the peo¬ 
ple need or could wish for. Not many miles from 
us there are warehouses bursting with the products 
of the soil; there are buildings filled with the out¬ 
put of shop and factory, and yet not far from where 
we are sitting there are children going hungry and 
ragged. I say there is something wrong with our 
social and economic system, and if we cannot solve 
these problems that confront us and permit things 
to go on from bad to worse, our people are lacking 
in the patriotism of the fathers who laid the foun¬ 
dation of our government and devoid of the courage 
of the pioneers who conquered the vast territory 
of the West that was once a wilderness.” 

“ What would you propose ? Do you think that 
Socialism is the solution ?” questioned Pennington. 

“ No,” replied Campbell. “ The economic revolu¬ 
tion which Carl Marx predicted is yet far off, be- 


176 


SILVERADO 


cause the world is neither prepared nor ready for 
it. Whatever changes may come in our economic 
and industrial system must necessarily be brought 
through a slow and gradual evolution. In countries 
like Russia, for instance, where autocracy has 
reached the point of climax, there may come violent 
eruptions that will completely overturn the present 
order in a day. But this could not happen in this 
country where many people are yet fairly well to 
do. In countries like England and America the 
next step in industrial progress will be a marvelous 
increase in production and an amazing increase of 
wealth. Labor will then demand a just share in the 
wealth produced, and capital will be forced to rec¬ 
ognize such a claim, and giye more attention to 
the health, housing and general well being of the 
workers. 

“ I believe in democracy ; therefore, I cannot ac¬ 
cept socialism, which, carried to its fullest realiza¬ 
tion, would mean the supreme autocracy of the 
State. The dictatorship of the proletariat is no less 
objectionable than the dictatorship of the aristoc¬ 
racy. The propaganda of the socialists seems to be 
to arouse class hatred - class consciousness, they call 
it—but we have too much of that already.” 

2 

“ The trouble is, as I see it,” Campbell went on, at 
the request of the others, “the human factor in in¬ 
dustry is being more and more neglected. The 
energy and genius of the great masses of the work¬ 
ers is becoming enslaved to the machine. If this 
goes on, in another generation we shall have in this 


SILVERADO 


177 


country a form of industrial slavery, which will 
embrace all who-must work for a living. Slavery 
in any form cannot long endure, because it is con¬ 
trary to the eternal laws of justice. America will 
never be really free until we abolish the autocratic 
system of industry and adopt in its place a co-opera¬ 
tive and democratic system. Labor will then be 
regarded not merely as a part of the industrial ma¬ 
chinery, but as a partner in the management, being 
interested in and sharing equally with capital in the 
output. Service, not merely profit, will then be 
the chief aim of business and industry. 

“ But, beside all this, another and fundamental 
thing must be done before industrial peace will be 
possible and secure. Steps must be taken, by the 
enactment of law, whereby all workers may have 
equal opportunity to the use of land. This would 
lead to the relief of the congestion of population in 
our industrial centers which sooner or later will 
threaten our social structure and will become a 
menace to our democratic institutions. The con¬ 
structive minds of our country—the really big men, 
with a vision as well as a capacity to do and direct, 
are some day going to discover that poverty does 
not pay, that it is a drag on industry and a disgrace 
to civilization, and then poverty as we now have it 
will be abolished.” 

“ I see that, after all, you are an optimist, Sandy,” 
said Jennings. “ But don’t you think they’ll have 
to do a lot of missionary work first. So much pov¬ 
erty is due to drink, for one thing.” 

“Yes,” replied Campbell; I once heard a good, 
well-meaning preacher say that all poverty is due 


178 


SILVERADO 


to intemperance. But out in Colorado, where you 
and I were two years ago, intemperance had an in¬ 
ning every twenty-four hours of the day, and yet I 
saw no poverty there. Sin, this same preacher said, 
is the cause of all trouble in this world. Now, that 
may be all true; but whose sin is the fundamental 
cause of poverty ? Is it not the sin of the smug 
hypocrites who grow enormously rich by the toil 
of others; is it not the sin of the parasites who have 
monopolized the natural resources of the earth 
which the Creator intended should be equally shared 
by all the people?” 

“ Then you think private monopoly of land or 
special privilege, as you call it, is the primary cause 
of poverty?” 

‘‘Ido; special privilege is back of all social in¬ 
justice and economic maladjustment. Privilege is 
founded on monopoly, and the basis of all monopoly 
is the monopolization of land. Hence social justice 
and economic order and stability can never come to 
the world until land monopoly has been destroyed 
or abolished.” 

Campbell spoke very earnestly, like one who sin¬ 
cerely believed in his conclusions, and his hearers 
listened with marked attention. After a momen¬ 
tary pause, other questions were put to him. 

3 

“ And how would you proceed to abolish monop¬ 
oly in land—by confiscation?” 

‘‘No; by and through the taxing power of the 
government.” 

‘‘You have been reading ‘Progress and Poverty,’ 


SILVERADO 


179 


by Henry George, I see,” remarked Pennington. 
‘‘I have read portions of it, but could never quite 
understand how his theory would solve the vexed 
question. All the people can’t be farmers.” 

‘‘The more 1 study George’s theory of taxation 
of land values, or the single tax so-called, the more 
I become convinced that he is right,” replied Camp¬ 
bell. “ But his economic theory is so radically dif¬ 
ferent from that taught in our schools and colleges 
for years and years that it cannot be expected that 
it will be accepted right off the bat. I’ll admit that 
it took some time and reading to get it ‘ soaked ’ 
into me. It will take years and years to educate 
the people before they will be able to see the truth.” 

“ But you don’t mean to claim that the single tax 
would prove a panacea—a cure-all for our social 
and industrial ills?” questioned Jennings. 

“ No, but as Henry George himself has put it: 
Justice is the panacea, and the abolishment of land 
monopoly would eventually bring social justice and 
economic equality. Destroy special privilege and 
restore equal opportunity, and there is intelligence 
and industry enough in this world to soon set things 
right. Now, if you have given the matter any 
thought, you must admit that land monopoly is the 
cause of many economic and social evils; because, 
primarily, it denies to men the natural, God-given 
right to use the land in order to earn a living for 
themselves and their families. It has locked up 
Nature’s storehouse and kept millions out of em¬ 
ployment or forced them to become the industrial 
slaves of those who hold the keys to that store¬ 
house. Land monopoly exacts high rentals from 


180 


SILVERADO 


both capital and labor, thus causing the wasteful 
and destructive disputes and wars that are ever re¬ 
curring in the industrial world. 

“ Land speculation, which has its basis in land 
monopoly, is responsible for the business depres¬ 
sions and panics which take place when industry 
and commerce are rendered unprofitable by the 
enormous drain of speculative ground rent. It has 
built up the tenement houses and the slums in our 
large cities, because of the high price of city lots, 
making it impossible for the average worker to get 
a home of his own outside of the congested districts. 

“ A good and bountiful creator provided this 
earth with unlimited resources to make the life of 
all his children one of abundance and comfort; but 
unwise, man-made laws establishing land monopoly 
have made life for the great majority a fierce strug¬ 
gle for mere existence. Do you wonder that many 
fall by the wayside, discouraged, sin-stained, and 
sometimes desperately wicked ? Because men are 
denied their natural birthright—free access to the 
land—they become tramps, beggars and criminals. 
It is land monopoly that is responsible for two dis¬ 
tinct classes of society—the rich and the poor. 

“ Real democracy is impossible under land monop¬ 
oly, because aristocracy has ever rested its power 
in vested rights to land. Monopoly in land has 
created the worthless drones of society, and con¬ 
demned men, women and children to involuntary 
poverty. I tell you, until land monopoly has been 
destroyed, it is mockery to pray for God’s kingdom 
to come to this earth.” 

“That’s putting it pretty strong, Sandy. But 


SILVERADO 


181 


wherein does the Henry George theory differ from 
that of Karl Marx? Are they not virtually the 
same?” 

“ No ; while Marx in a way admitted that indus¬ 
trial monopoly was based on land monopoly, he 
would have the State own not only the land but all 
the means of production. Marx’s theory is essentially 
autocratic, while George’s rests in democracy. 
While the government would function according to 
the will of the majority, private initiative and per¬ 
sonal responsibility would not be destroyed. Man 
would be left free to work out his own individual 
industrial and economic independence.” 

4 

‘‘You don’t believe, then, that wealth—capital— 
in itself is an evil; that the making of money, per 
se, is wrong?” queried Pennington. 

“ No ; the accumulation of wealth through legiti¬ 
mate work or effort is not to be condemned, but the 
unscrupulous greed of those who control by monop¬ 
oly the means of production. But this spirit of 
greed is not confined to any one class; under a com¬ 
petitive system it has grown and developed until 
to-day we might say life from start to finish has 
become a chase after fortune, a money-grabbing 
game for most of us. In the eyes of the world, 
wealth is regarded as the measure of success.” 

‘‘If this be true,” remarked Jennings,” how are 
you going to set up another standard of life ?” 

“ Through education; but it cannot be done in 
one generation, nor perhaps in several. Education 
and training must precede any effort to improve 


182 


SILVERADO 


the present social state and correct the economic 
maladjustment in the world. And sooner or later 
the thinking men—the master intellects of the world 
—must see the necessity of beginning a campaign 
for such an education as I have in mind. 

“The trend of modern civilization is more and 
more toward the materialistic. While we are mak¬ 
ing marvelous advancement in science and industry, 
the social fabric is threatened with moral and spir¬ 
itual bankruptcy. To my mind it seems to be a 
situation pointing to dangers ahead of us; for all 
history teaches us that a purely material civiliza¬ 
tion, however brilliant and great it may appear on 
the surface, is maturing seeds of its own decay. 

“ History also proves that in every age there 
have been obstacles to progress. It was the greed 
and lust for material power that destroyed other 
civilizations, and it will destroy ours unless we heed 
in time the lesson of history. 

“ I have given some time to the study of all re¬ 
ligions (my father, as well as yours, was a minister, 
you know), and I believe that the life and teachings 
of the Carpenter of Nazareth, if practiced in our 
daily life, would produce a condition in society that 
would bring joy, peace and prosperity throughout 
the world.” 

“ The preachers have been telling us that for two 
thousand years,” said Pennington, “and yet how 
few, comparatively, have accepted those teachings 
or are really trying to practice them in their social 
and business life.” 

“ That’s just it, and why ? Because our economic 
system does not harmonize with Christian teachings. 


SILVERADO 


183 


A social and economic system that has produced the 
present condition among the masses of the people in 
all so-called Christian lands is essentially pagan and 
not Christian. 

“Why is the modern church losing its hold on 
men? Because it has justified a social and economic 
order which is contrary to the teachings and life of 
its Founder. It has ignored or overlooked funda¬ 
mentals and emphasized or quibbled over matters 
of form or ritual. And now it needs to ‘come back’ 
to the simple teachings of Jesus.” 

“ What you have said, Sandy, is all very interest¬ 
ing to me,” said Pennington, “and I shall make it a 
point to study these social and economic problems a 
little more in the future than I have in the past. 
But these reforms, this progress you speak of, all 
look so very far off to me that the case appears to 
be almost hopeless.” 

“ Not necessarily. Every force in nature is con¬ 
tinually renewing itself and points to progress. 
Even death itself is only a process of change—a 
change of form or the beginning of a new life. If 
this is true in the physical world, don’t you think 
the same law governs in the mental and spiritual 
realm ? 

“ Nothing is really ever finished—nothing ever 
complete. Some men have the erroneous idea that 
things can be settled for good—for all time and 
eternity. But in a world that is ever changing, 
such a thing is impossible. Life goes on, and new 
problems arise with every generation of men, and 
new solutions must be found. The world will not 
and cannot stand still, for that would mean chaos. 


184 


SILVERADO 


‘ Progress ’ is written in the very heavens. The old 
things pass away, but new ones take their places. 
It is well that we have conservatives to hold us 
back—to hold the brakes, as it were—or the radi¬ 
cals might have things going too fast and land us 
in a wreck. We must go on, however, or we 
would roll back into savagery. . . And I believe 

there is a super-power to guide man’s destiny, or 
the struggle would be hopeless. . . I guess I 

have said enough. Have I tired you, boys ?” 

“ Not at all,” replied Pennington, ‘‘and in the 
main I think you are right in your conclusions. 
Your mention of ‘man’s destiny’ brings us back to 
my first question and reminds me that we have 
strayed away from the subject. When I asked if 
you believed in fate, I had in mind your girl friend 
from Colorado—Sallie, you call her—she with that 
wonderful voice. I was going to tell you that Mrs. 
George Millard, one of Chicago’s wealthy women, 
has become interested in her, and is going to send 
her to Paris to study music and be trained for the 
operatic stage. 

“ Ed here has told me the story of how and why 
she came to Chicago. Had not her grandfather been 
killed in the mine, she probably would have been 
‘doomed to waste her sweetness on the desert air’ 
of those mountains. True, the old miner might 
have ‘ struck it rich,’ as you say, and thus been able 
to give her educational advantages, but his fatal 
ending resulted in the girl striking out for herself, 
and now the generosity of a benefactress may re¬ 
sult in her becoming world famous. Is there not 
something in destiny after all ?” 


SILVERADO 


185 


“ But the germ of that destiny, or whatever it 
may be called, was in her own heart, for had she 
not had a great, burning desire to sing to people 
she would have been contented to remain in that 
little mountain town and sing to the birds, as she 
used to do, around her cabin door.” 


CHAPTER XXII 

A TRIP ON SNOW SHOES. 

1 

Let us return again to the little mountain town 
in Colorado. It is about the middle of February, 
and in order to reach there we shall have to go 
over the Hermosa and Bear Creek ranges on snow 
shoes. The San Juan region has been experiencing 
another unusually severe winter, with an unprece¬ 
dented fall of snow, covering trails and roads to a 
depth of from six to twelve feet. 

Silverado has been “snow bound” for over a 
month and had no regular communication with the 
outside world. Once or twice within that time two 
men had ventured out on skis and brought in a little 
letter mail from the nearest railroad station. 

It has been no easy task for Harmon to keep his 
little newspaper going this hard winter, and a man 
with less determination would probably have “shut 
up shop” and suspended publication until spring. 
Whatever principle a man adopts as his rule and 
guide is what governs his actions. The plucky ed¬ 
itor of the Record had left the word “fail” out of 
his mental lexicon, and he had long since learned 
that the anticipation of doing a difficult thing is 
harder than the doing of the thing itself. He had 
made an agreement with some of his patrons to do a 
certain thing which must be fulfilled. His paper was 



An unprecedented fall of snow, covering trails and roads to a depth of from six to twelve feet." (Pape 18 














SILVERADO 


187 


at that time carrying a number of mining applica¬ 
tions for a patent—legal notices that must be pub¬ 
lished regularly and consecutively according to the 
law and regulations of the U. S. land office, or good 
old Uncle Sam would not issue a patent to the ap¬ 
plicants. And unless he himself followed out the 
law he could not expect to be paid for the publi¬ 
cation of the notices. 

Now, the trouble was that the supply of white 
news print had given out, and Harmon had used up 
all the manilla wrapping paper for printing the 
Record. The publisher was confronted with the 
question of how to get out the next issue, with no 
paper of any kind to be had in the town. (The 
other paper had long since suspended publication and 
moved away.) One of the stores had a small sup¬ 
ply of wall-paper, and as a last resort he might be 
compelled to use this, although its use would in¬ 
volve cutting down his type forms. He remem¬ 
bered having seen somewhere a copy of a paper 
printed on wall-paper which was issued in a city in 
the South during the civil war. If found necessary 
he could do the same rather than miss an issue of 
his paper. 

At Rocklin, thirty-five miles away, were several 
bundles of paper which had arrived there from 
Denver a few days after the beginning of the 
snow blockade. Now, the only way to get that 
paper to Silverado was to go after it, and this 
Harmon finally decided to do himself, because he 
had been unable to employ anyone to make the trip 
for him. It was generally conceded a dangerous 
undertaking, this trip of thirty-five miles over two 


188 


SILVERADO 


mountain ranges, op snow shoes, for snow-slides 
were common, and one might be caught in a storm 
at any time on top of either range. There was 
but one stopping place on the way, Perley Wasson’s 
half-way house or the old stage station, and this was 
now deserted, for when the stage stopped running, 
Perley, his wife and his horses had moved to a 
lower altitude and would not return until the road 
was opened in the spring. 

Harmon had finally induced a miner named Perry 
Jones, one of the old-timers in the camp, to make 
the trip with him. Food supplies were beginning 
to run low in the camp, and Perry thought he 
would carry back some flour and bacon, besides 
helping Harmon with the paper supply. 

A crowd of men, idle miners and a few of the 
gamblers still remaining in the camp because they 
had been unable to get out, had gathered in front 
of the newspaper office the morning when Harmon 
and Perry were to start on their trip. Some of the 
old mountaineers shook their heads and murmured 
something about “taking desperate chances’’ with 
the weather still unsettled. Another big snow 
storm might come on any time and “catch them 
right on top of the range,” said one of the men. 

“I doubt if the kid editor ever gets through,” 
said another when Harmon and his companion had 
disappeared down the street leading out of town. 
“ Perry may make it, but he’lkhave to carry the 
kid over the range.” 

“ Don’t you fool yourself, Tom,” said a grizzly¬ 
headed old miner, taking the pipe out of his pocket 
and shaking the ashes in his hand ; “that kid’s got 


SILVERADO 


189 


lots o’ grit. He’ll tackle anything, and what’s 
more, he’ll stay with it till h—1 freezes over. Re¬ 
member how he stood off a whole gang of vigilantes 
one night some years ago when they had threatened 
to run him out o’ camp or tar and feather him ? 
You can’t scare that feller, and he’s not such a kid 
as he looks.” 

“ Bet you a ten he don’t come back alive,” 

“ I’t’s not me that’s bettin’ any money on any¬ 
body’s life ; but I tell you unless a storm o’ertakes 
him he’ll come back in a few days with the stuff to 
get out the next number of his paper. That kid, as 
you call him, is got more nerve than many of us old 
weather-beaten stiffs, and I for one glory in his 
spunk. He’s learned to go it alone, an’ that’s the 
only sure way of winning in any game. I learned 
that when I first started out prospecting in the good 
old days of ’49 from Frisco.” 

“ Oh, I don’t wish the kid any bad luck, but I do 
say he and Perry are taking a big chance in this 
game.” 

2 

It was an easy run for two miles or more down 
the canyon over the smooth and frozen snow, but 
when Harmon and Perry began zig-zagging up the 
mountain range they found it to be more labor than 
sport. As the sun rose higher, the snow melted on 
top, making ski-ing more laborious. When they 
reached the summit, Perry, his strength almost ex¬ 
hausted, was surprised to find Harmon not only far 
from tired but eager to make the run down the 
m ountain side to the little valley below. 

The old miner was amazed at the strength and 


190 


SILVERADO 


endurance of his young companion. Though he did 
not understand there was a reason, and it was not 
the difference in their ages. Perry, who carried 
a bottle of whisky in his pocket, had occasionally 
taken a drink to “brace up his nerves,” but now 
that the stimulant was gone, his body felt the shock 
of reaction from the effects of the liquor. 

Harmon had repeatedly refused to drink out of 
the bottle when Perry had offered it to him. The 
pure mountain air, so full of ozone, he said, was all 
the stimulant he needed, and their experience had 
proved that he was right. The mental attitude of 
the two men also had much to do with their feel¬ 
ings. Harmon had started out with a full deter¬ 
mination to “ get there,” while Perry’s mind had 
been full of doubt from the very start. Every per¬ 
son may be said to have some will power, or rather 
two kinds of will—a strong and a weak, a positive 
and a negative. Harmon’s strong will was master 
of his weak, but with Perry it was the weak that 
governed the strong. Experience had taught 
Harmon that the secret of a strong will power is 
the cultivation of the strong side of one’s will. He 
had also learned that the law of suggestion is a 
powerful mental force that operates for or against 
every undertaking. He knew that if he would 
succeed in any enterprise he should avoid any sug¬ 
gestion of failure. But Perry’s mind was unable 
to grasp these psychological truths. 

When they finally reached the half-way house, 
Perry declared he was “ all in ” and unable to go 
any farther that day. Harmon, though anxious to 
go on, could not well leave his companion there 


SILVERADO 


191 


alone; therefore, it was decided to “camp” there 
over night. The house was securely locked and 
the windows boarded up, but they found the barn 
open, and here they built a fire, made some coffee, 
and ate the lunch they had carried with them. 

Perry passed the afternoon smoking his pipe, his 
mind anticipating the fresh supply of booze he 
would get when they reached Rocklin, while Har¬ 
mon was outlining some editorials and “ stories ” 
for the next issue of the Record on the leaves of a 
memoranda book that he carried in his pocket. 

3 

It was a long and dreary night that they passed 
in the barn of the half-way house, and Perry, his 
body sore from exertion and his appetite craving 
for more whisky, was secretly wishing that he had 
never undertaken this trip, but there was no turn¬ 
ing back now, and besides, he thought, it would 
not do to have it told of him that he “ had been out¬ 
done by a kid.” Harmon sat on a box near the 
fire, now and then snatching a minute or two of 
sleep, thinking of the task before them on the mor¬ 
row ; while his companion had crawled away and 
buried himsel f in a pile of straw in one corner of 
the barn, where he was now snoring vigorously. 

It was past midnight when Harmon stepped out¬ 
side, and the scene that met his eyes was one of 
solemnity and wonder. Save for the occasional 
bark of a coyote or mountain fox in the canyon 
above, there was perfect stillness. The wind had 
gone down shortly after sunset, and all nature now 
seemed to be in full repose. The heavens above 


192 


SILVERADO 


were brilliant with the glow of the millions of stars 
and though only in the first quarter the moon was 
clearly visible in full outline in that clear and beau¬ 
tiful sky—a sky that would have delighted the eye 
of an astronomer or a student of the stellar con¬ 
stellations. The brilliancy of the canopy of lights 
overhead seemed to be reflected in the earth below, 
for the snowy valley and hillsides sparkled like a 
sheen set with millions of diamonds. 

Harmon, a lover of nature from childhood, drank 
in the scene in silence, but a prayer went out from 
his heart to the Power above that directed and con¬ 
trolled the stars in their orbits and held the earth 
in its place among the myriads of worlds. How 
wonderful and how harmonious the great physical 
universe seemed to be, moving and working under 
the all-wise Superintendent; and it occurred to him 
that when man has learned to harmonize physical, 
economic and moral laws on this earth, contention, 
strife, disorder, distress, poverty, and war will be 
forever banished. A beautiful dream, he said to 
himself, but not beyond realization, if man ever 
reaches the high ideal of civilization that God must 
have had in mind when He placed him on earth. 

Returning to the barn, Harmon reviewed the 
events of the day and was thinking that Perry would 
not prove to be of much help to him on this trip 
and that he would have been better off if he had 
started out without him. 

As he sat there alone, thinking and dreaming of 
the future, the last lines of a poem by John G. Saxe, 
which he had set up and printed in the Record the 
week before kept ringing in his ears: 


SILVERADO 


193 


In battle or business, whatever the game, 

In law or in love, it is ever the same; 

In the struggle for power, or the scramble for pelf, 

Let this be your motto ,—Rely on yourself ! 

For whether the prize be a ribbon or throne, 

The victor is he who can go it alone!" 

4 

It was late in the afternoon of the next day when 
the two men on snowshoes reached their destina¬ 
tion, Harmon not much worse for the trip but 
Perry nearly worn out and exhausted. 

The young editor sought his bed early, but the 
miner, having found a saloon, was trying to brace 
up and quiet his aching body with more liquor. The 
result was that the following morning he was unfit 
to make the trip back to Silverado. 

After waiting another day for Perry to “ sober 
up,” Harmon, anxious to return to his work, start¬ 
ed back alone, with forty pounds of paper strapped 
to his back. At first the pack seemed light, but as 
he traveled along on the snow the burden grew 
heavier and heavier. He had planned to reach 
Silverado that night, but along in the afternoon 
when he reached the half-way house a heavy fall of 
snow compelled him to rest there for the night. 

When morning came the snow was still falling, 
with a brisk wind blowing from the southwest, and 
he deemed it wise not to attempt to cross the second 
mountain range in such a storm. 

For two days and nights the storm raged in great 
fury, and he would have perished from hunger and 
cold had he not gained entrance to the house by 
breaking through one of the windows. Inside the 


194 


SILVERADO 


house he found some crackers and canned goods left 
there by the Wassons, which appeased his hunger. 
Anyone who has traveled over the mountains, 
especially in the cold of winter, knows something 
about the keen appetite that comes to one under 
such circumstances. It is doubtful if one could keep 
up a long fast in the high mountain altitudes. 

Harmon would never have made a good hermit; 
he was not made of that kind of stuff. Always 
active and energetic, he was a good “ mixer ” in all 
classes of society and loved to be where there “was 
something doing,” as he was wont to put it. There¬ 
fore, the two days and three nights he was com¬ 
pelled to spend alone in the temporarily deserted 
home of the Wassons were probably the longest 
and most monotonous he had ever experienced. No 
wonder it was with a buoyant will and gay spirits 
he began the climb over the mountain on the morn¬ 
ing of the third day after his arrival at the half-way 
house. 

5 

When this last storm was raging the people of 
Silverado had generally entertained fears that the 
prediction of Tom Spurlock would prove true. Cer¬ 
tainly if the two men had found themselves on top 
of the range in that storm they must have perished, 
just as the big Norwegian mail carrier had lost his 
life a few years before. Only those old-timers who 
had weathered their blasting fury and icy breath 
could realize what such storms were like. 

Many people were beginning to think that Perry 
and and his young companion had met the same 
fate as the mail carrier. Therefore, when Harmon 


SILVERADO 


195 


was seen coming up the street with a bundle of 
paper on his back, there was not only great surprise 
but a shout went up from the little crowd that had 
gathered in front of the Record office to welcome 
him and learn of his experience. 

Again the young editor had demonstrated that 
he had the courage as well as mettle to do things. 
When it was learned that Perry, the strong and 
muscular man, had been left behind, the people were 
amazed, because they did not understand the power 
of will. It was Harmon’s determination and will 
power that had carried him through, not his phys¬ 
ical strength. He had learned that the secret of 
strong will power was the constant cultivation of 
constructive thought, and experience had taught 
him that negative thought is a destructive force, 
and that fear is a form of cowardly negation. 

Experience had also taught him that it was un¬ 
wise to reveal his plans to everybody; but to keep 
his innermost thoughts to himself until his plans 
were mature for action, and then tell only such 
friends as were interested in his success. He had 
learned that his true friends would believe in him, 
and their thoughts would inspire him to full-hearted 
action. And, above all, he had found that he must 
believe in himself if he would have others believe 
in him. 


CHAPTER XXIII 

FAMINE THREATENS SILVERADO. 

1 

A month had passed since Harmon made the trip 
on snow-shoes after paper and Silverado was still 
isolated from the big outside world by the snow 
blockade, although there had been no additional fall 
of snow for two weeks. The warm rays of the sun 
were melting the snow during the day, thus form¬ 
ing an icy, hard crust on top during the cold nights, 
making it possible in the early morn to walk on it 
without snow-shoes. 

The supply of paper having again given out, 
Harmon had to make another trip to Rocklin, but 
this time he went alone. Walking on to the crusted 
snow, he returned in three days with two bundles 
of paper loaded on a hand-sled. 

It was now three months since the last load of 
provisions had been brought in, and Silverado was 
threatened with famine. Owing to the great depth 
of snow, it was out of the question to transport any 
supplies into camp by wagon or by burro pack 
trains. 

The burro, a most faithful beast of burden, will 
briskly and carefully climb the mountain trails over 
rocks and up steep grades with a heavy pack 
strapped to its back, but let it find a soft, boggy 
place in summer or the deep, soft snow in winter, 


SILVERADO 


197 


and the little animal will balk or, in its donkey 
stubbornness, lie down with its burden and refuse 
to move. Instinct seems to have taught it that a 
solid footing is the first requisite for success. Men 
who try to build character or a business on a shaky 
or unsound foundation might take lessons from this 
dumb little brute that in years past did so much for 
the development of the mining regions of the West. 
The old pioneers who blazed the trails through the 
mountains would have failed but for the help of the 
faithful burro. 


2 

The supply of meats had given out, and now there 
was only one store in town that had any flour left. 
The storekeeper, upon learning that he had a mo¬ 
nopoly in flour, immediately doubled the price. It 
was only another example of human greed and an 
illustration of how one man may profit by another’s 
misfortune. When Harmon heard of this, just be¬ 
fore his paper was ready to go to press, he wrote a 
scathing editorial denouncing the merchant for his 
greed and scheme of profiteering at the expense of 
the people of the camp. 

McKadden, the merchant, became very indignant 
upon reading the article and rushed off to the Record 
office to stop his “ad ’’ in the paper. He declared 
that the paper had no right to tell him “how he 
should run his business,’’ and demanded that the 
editor apologize. And when Harmon refused to do 
so, his fit of anger was wrought up to such a point 
that he started in to “lick the editor ” right then 
and there. He was a large, powerful man, and had 


198 


SILVERADO 


he been able to lay his hands on Harmon the latter 
would probably have gotten the worst of the fight. 
But the plucky editor, deeming that a hand-to-hand 
contest with an opponent nearly double his weight 
would not be fair, quickly picked up a brass column 
rule and with this in his hand he drove the enraged 
flour dealer out of the office and down the stairs 
into the street. 

Harmon then and there lost a big advertiser for 
his paper, but his action proved that he was ready 
to back up his editorials, even if it took a brass 
column-rule to do it. The editor of the big metro¬ 
politan daily, who dictates his editorials to a sten¬ 
ographer away up there in an office of a sky-scraper 
building, is seldom, if ever, thus called upon to em¬ 
phasize with muscular demonstration his sincerity 
and honesty. Yet it is not such an uncommon thing 
even to-day for the editor of the small-town weekly 
to defend his views and opinions at the risk of get¬ 
ting whipped, or even killed, as did Harmon that 
day in the little Colorado mining town. 

The flour “story” in the Record stirred the whole 
town, and there was talk among some of the miners 
of making a raid on the store, but the cooler heads 
were able to control the mob spirit. A committee of 
citizens waited upon the dealer in flour and informed 
him that unless he would continue to sell the flour 
still left in his store at the old price, they would 
confiscate all his goods and run him out of camp. 
Needless to say that the price of flour remained at 
the old figure in Silverado until the last sack had 
been sold. Further than this, the instructions of 
the committee were that no one person or family 


SILVERADO 


199 


was to be allowed more than one 50-pound sack, 
and the merchant deemed it advisable follow out the 
order to the letter. 

Heretofore McFadden had been held in high re¬ 
spect by the people of the town, but his attempt to 
profiteer at the expense of his neighbors lowered 
him in the estimation of his customers. After that 
his trade fell off rapidly, and when spring came he 
was forced to retire from business and leave town. 

The incident proved to Harmon that it is the little 
acts of life that give one a true insight of a man’s 
real character. McFadden had posed as an “honest, 
Christian gentleman,” but when the test came and 
he was “weighed in the balance,” he was not only 
found wanting but shown to be possessed of a small, 
mean soul. The man who “ splits hairs ” on a plea 
of “honesty,” thought Harmon, is generally dis¬ 
honest at heart. 

The young editor was again the most popular 
man in town, and even some of his old enemies who 
had never quite forgotten his denunciation of the 
lynchers, were disposed to feel kindlier toward him 
now. Perhaps they were able to see that Harmon 
was ever ready to champion a just cause and fight 
for what he believed to be for the best interests of 
the community—a characteristic not at all uncom¬ 
mon among the “ country editors ” throughout the 
land, conflicting opinion to the contrary notwith¬ 
standing. 

There remained only a limited quantity of Cali¬ 
fornia canned fruits and vegetables in camp. One 
after another the stores were putting out signs of 
“no more eats to sell.” It was told that some of 


200 


SILVERADO 


the miners were getting corn from Mr. Lehman, the 
livery stable keeper, and grinding it up in coffee- 
mills to make “corn dodgers,” which, together 
with cotton-tail rabbits caught in the deep snow on 
the timbered hillsides, constituted their entire menu. 

4 

There was still plenty of whisky in the camp 
however, and many a miner’s wife was wishing that 
this instead of flour had given out. With so many 
idle men in town, there was much drunkenness with 
its consequent results. Two men, who had prob¬ 
ably existed mainly on liquor for days, were found 
lying dead in the rear of a saloon one morning. 
Strange to say, the men were not stirred by this 
incident, but had the women had their way, the 
saloons would have been closed. 

At this time, however, the question of prohibition 
was not seriously considered. The saloon was 
looked upon as a necessary evil, like the brothel, 
and had anyone suggested the closing of either, he 
would have been laughed to scorn as a silly fool or 
a long-haired crank. But evil eventually destroys 
itself, and it was not many years after that when 
the Centennial State closed the saloons in every 
city, town and hamlet within its borders. To-day 
the prohibition sentiment is not stronger anywhere 
than in Colorado. Even in the mining camps the 
people have learned that, both from an economic 
and moral standpoint, King Alcohol is one of the 
greatest enemies of society and bar to progress. 


CHAPTER XXIV 

HARMON MEETS BRUIN. 

1 

The food situation in Silverado was becoming 
serious, and Harmon, who alone and undaunted had 
made several trips out on snow-shoes for paper on 
which to print his newspaper, now stirred the miners 
to action. He knew that many women and children 
in the camp were actually suffering for want of 
food. “ Let the men live on whisky if they want 
to,” he said; “ but the ‘kiddies’ must have grub 
even if I have to go after it myself!” 

The next issue of the Record called for volunteers 
to go out for food supplies. The editor organized 
and led a band of twenty miners, who one night 
started out with hand-sleds over the snow to Rock¬ 
lin. In a few days they returned with supplies of 
flour and bacon; other bands of men followed, and 
the threatened famine was thus averted. 

2 

Not until the end of May had the snow disap¬ 
peared from the lower levels of the mountains; in 
the deep and shady gulches and on the high peaks 
it remnined all summer. Not within the history of 
all that region of country had a like situation been 
recorded. It was not until the middle of June that 
the roads became passable for even light vehicles. 


202 


SILVERADO 


Because of the short summer season, all mining 
operations lagged, and Silverado was a “dead” 
camp that whole year. There was not half the usual 
spring influx of miners, mine operators or gamblers 
and their following. Consequently many of the 
business houses remained closed. 

To save the annual assessment work necessary in 
order to legally hold the claims, many mines were 
being patented, and the publication of the notices 
thereof made it possible for the Record to be pub¬ 
lished regularly. 

3 

Early in June Harmon was called to Durango, 
where the U. S. land office was located, to make 
arrangements for the patenting of some of his 
mining claims. • Since the Rocklin stage had not yet 
resumed operations, he was obliged to walk to t. e 
railroad station. However, he had become so used 
to these “ hikes ” over the mountains that he rather 
enjoyed them. He left Silverado in the evening in 
order to reach the railway station in time for the 
early train the next morning. 

Harmon reached the half-way house shortly after 
midnight and here he stopped a half hour to rest. 
Then proceeding down the road, whistling or hum¬ 
ming to himself one of the then popular airs, partly 
to keep himself awake and partly to overcome a 
feeling of loneliness, he shortly met with an ex¬ 
perience which he remembered to his dying day and 
which haunted him in his sleep like a nightmare for 
many years. 

The sky was clear, the moon almost full, and in 


SILVERADO 


203 


that rare mountain atmosphere objects were almost 
as easily discernable as in daylight. There was no 
wind to disturb the perfect stillness of the night; 
only the sound of his own footsteps broke the deep 
silence of the surroundings. 

4 

When Harmon reached the top of a rise in the 
road, he suddenly heard a sharp noise like the snort 
of a hog, and looking up he saw a large bear com¬ 
ing rapidly down the ridge toward him. Instantly 
realizing his danger, he saw that he must act quickly 
or be killed by the ferocious animal. He knew that 
the bears in this altitude had but recently come out 
of their hibernation, lean and hungry, and were not 
in a playful or peaceful mood. 

Having no firearms except a small pocket pistol, 
he quickly decided that the only thing to do was to 
try to get out of the reach of the bear if possible, 
and therefore turned and ran down the hill toward 
the nearest tree, about a hundred yards distant. 
Glancing back he saw the bear on top of the ridge, 
following his steps. Then looking neither to the 
right nor left he ran as fast as his legs could carry 
him; a tuft of mountain sage tripped him, and he 
fell headlong into a pile of bowlders. Realizing that 
the bear was gaining on him, he jumped quickly to 
his feet and ran on. 

When about a hundred feet from the tree he sud¬ 
denly found himself waist deep in a pool of water. 
Looking back he now saw the bear at the edge of 
the pool, within ten feet of him, apparently hesitat¬ 
ing whether or not to jump into the icy cold water. 


204 


SILVERADO 


He saw the animal’s sharp black eyes glaring at him 
in the bright moonlight, and he recognized it as 
one of the silver-gray species, a cross between a 
grizzly and a black bear, then quite common in that 
region. It looked lean and hungry, evidently hav¬ 
ing just come out from its winter sleep. 

The situation was tense, and the moments seemed 
like hours to Harmon. A man and a brute stood 
face to face to decide, as it were, who should be 
the master. * 

In the cold night air Harmon could almost feel 
the breath of the brute on his face, and as fear for 
a moment possessed him his first thought was that 
his end had come. Had fate ordained that he should 
here and thus end his life, the prey of a wild beast? 
Death seemed to stare him in the face. 

For the first time in his life he was completely 
overcome with fear. His heart beat violently and 
the hair on his head felt like a mass of needles. But 
only for a moment, though this feeling of intense 
suspense seemed like hours. 

Then he rallied ; his spirit rose—that indomitable 
spirit, the undying fire in every man’s breast that 
may be rekindled in a moment of extreme peril— 
and he felt strong and courageous enough to pounce 
upon the brute and choke it to death ! Raising the 
little walking stick that he had been carrying in his 
hand, as if to strike the bear, he cried out in a loud 
and super-human voice: 

“ Get out , you brute!” 

In the stillness of the night, the cry re-echoed 
through the hills and canyons, and probably could 
have been heard for miles. It was an agonizing 


SILVERADO 205 

cry, yet it had the tone of a command given in dire 
distress. 

Here was a test of the power of the human voice 
over brute nature and brute force. Here was a 
challenge of man’s dominion over the animal crea¬ 
tion. It was a test of man’s will power against 
animal fury. Fear had left the man, but back of 
the brute’s vicious anger was fear of the master— 
Man, whom God “created in His own likeness.’’ 

The man’s cry broke the spell. The human voice 
conquered. A growl, a sniff—and the bear turned 
on its haunches and fled, leaving the man master of 
the situation. The danger past, fear agaim returned 
to the man, and he got out of the pool of water and 
ran down the hill until he reached an old deserted 
cabin along the road. Here he stopped, built a fire 
and dried his clothes. An hour later he started on 
his way toward the railway station ; he reached it 
just in time to take the train for his destination. 

5 

Harmon could never fully account for his marvel¬ 
ous escape from the hungry and ferocious brute, 
which a few weeks later was seen and shot in the 
same locality by a hunter. 

In later years when referring to his narrow 
escape from death, he said he thought it must have 
been his horrible cry that frightened the bear. 
“ Bruin evidently didn’t know what kind of animal 
he had run up against that night, so he thought it 
best to beat it.” 


CHAPTER XXV 

AN UNHAPPY MARRIAGE. 

1 

Among the first to return to Silverado that sum¬ 
mer after the roads had been opened was Mrs. 
Wakefield; in fact, she came in on the very first 
stage from Rocklin. She came back a widow, for her 
husband, who had gone to California for his health, 
had died shortly after Christmas at San Diego and 
there his body had been laid to rest. 

Mrs. Wakefield carried her “weeds” lightly. She 
was not a woman to grieve long over anything, not 
even over the loss of a husband. There were 
plenty of other good men in the world, she rea¬ 
soned to herself, and should she wish for another, 
there were “ lots of good fish ” in the matrimonial 
sea to angle for. At any rate, she did not rehearse 
her sorrows, if such she had, to other people nor 
did she try to console herself with self-pity. She 
was a business woman and not at all sentimental in 
her nature. Her knowledge of people had taught 
her that much of the world’s sympathy is superficial 
and insincere. 

According to her philosophy, one cannot make 
other people happy by rehearsing their sorrows 
or misfortunes, much less by flaunting one’s own. 
She thought the world as a whole was cold and 
selfish and not interested in her troubles. She had no 


SILVERADO 


207 


children to grieve with her and she knew that sym¬ 
pathy, unless inspired by love, does not cheer or 
help the sorrowing one. She considered self-pity a 
mental weakness. 

Her light-hearted demeanor caused many of the 
women of Silverado to think of her as hard-hearted 
and unsympathetic. But in this they did her an in¬ 
justice, for at heart she was really a woman of a 
lovable and kindly disposition, but she did not “put 
on” virtues that were not hers by nature. 

“ Mind what I tell you,” whispered one of the 
gossips to another, “she will be looking for another 
man in less than a year. She already acts as if she 
was setting her cap for the young fellow who runs 
the paper.” 

“ Yes,” said the other, as the two were exchang¬ 
ing the latest town “news” at her back door; “I 
have noticed how she smiles on him and stops him 
on the street to talk to him. Maybe she wants to 
take the young man to raise.” 

Nothing escapes the town gossip, and as the sum¬ 
mer passed it was generally known that Mrs. 
Wakefield and Harmon were much together. On 
Sunday afternoons they were seen taking walks 
down the river or going up Horse Gulch on horse¬ 
back to a mine in which the late Mr. Wakefield had 
been interested. 

The widow was ten years older than Harmon, but 
she was what is commonly called a “well preserved” 
woman. Gay in spirits and animated in manner, 
she did not look to be over thirty. 

Harmon found her “good company,” but had no 
thought of falling in love with her or of ever mar- 


208 


SILVERADO 


rying her. He had not forgotten Sallie, but he did 
not expect to ever see her again. She seemed to 
have disappeared from his life forever. Through 
his friend Jennings in Chicago he had learned that 
Sallie was now in Paris studying to become an opera 
singer. Once she became enamored with the stage 
she would probably never think of him again. It 
would be best therefore, he thought, for him to try 
to forget her. 

2 

As the summer passed Harmou more and more 
felt the need of companionship. Since Jennings and 
Sallie had both left Silverado, now over two years 
ago, his life had been a rather lonely existence. The 
several congenial spirits that were wont to meet at 
his office to talk over things had one after another 
left the camp, Sandy Campbell, long his confidential 
friend and adviser, among them. He missed the 
smiling face of old Uncle Snelle, and the sweet 
sounds of his zither were no longer heard in the 
Record office. He missed Dan Rattek with his buoy¬ 
ant spirit and ever hopeful demeanor. He now 
realized that one never fully appreciates his friends 
until after they have gone away. 

Naturally affectionate and sociable he craved new 
friends and associates. Not that he could again 
love anyone as he had loved Sallie, but Mrs. Wake¬ 
field interested him. She, at least, seemed to want 
to fill his need of a close friend—a chum in whom 
he could confide. She was in all a very attractive 
woman, with a woman’s power to stir a man’s 
natural passions. Without much effort she seemed 
to be able to make men fall and worship at her feet. 


SILVERADO 


209 


She had many admirers among the marriageable 
men of Silverado, but she seemed to have set her 
heart on the young editor. 

The widow did not openly propose to him, but she 
knew something about the power of suggestion, 
and more than that, she knew how to tactfully use 
that power. 

3 

One Sunday afternoon, after a walk up the Silver 
Creek trail, when they had seated themselves under 
the shade of an alder growing near the bank of the 
roaring stream, Mrs. Wakefield said : 

“ Do you know, Frank, I have often wondered 
why you don’t get married?” 

“ Nobody would have me, because they all know 
I can’t support a wife decently. Some day when I 
sell a mine, I may think of it. But now I’m too 
proud to ask a woman to share my poverty with 
me,” he replied. 

“ Don’t think that because the silly Snellegirl ran 
off and left you. You can support a wife as well or 
better than most men, and Sallie is not the only girl 
in the world. There are ‘lots of good fish in the sea,’ 
you know.” And pushing down her skirts which 
had been drawn well above her ankles as she sat 
down and revealed her shapely limbs, she blushed 
as well as smiled when she added: ‘‘I know one 
who would have you if you asked her.” 

Her large, passion-warmed, brown eyes looked 
up into his steel-gray eyes and held him speechless. 
All unawares he found himself under the spell of a 
woman’s hypnotic power. 

Her charm was irresistible. He grasped both 


SILVERADO 


210 

her hands and kissed her mouth passionately. She 
made no resistance, but said in a trembling whisper: 

“You must be good. Somebody might see you. 
The gossiping women are already saying all sorts 
of things about us. Wait till we get home, and I’ll 
let you love me all you want to.’’ Then throwing 
her arms around his neck, she said in a cooing, soft 
voice : “ I need a man, and oh, boy, I love you !’’ 

4 

A month later Mrs. Wakefield and Harmon went 
to Durango, where they were quietly married by a 
justice of the peace. When, within a few days, 
they returned to Silverado, the whole town turned 
out to greet them. The next night the miners’ 
quartette gave them a serenade, and they were in¬ 
vited to the hall of the Miners’ Union, where a 
banquet had been prepared in their honor. 

Their hasty marriage gave promise of a happy 
union ; but time would tell. Some of the mothers 
who had young, marriageable daughters were not 
pleased, for they whispered among themselves that 
“ it was a perfect shame to see the fickle widow 
‘rope in’ such a nice young man,” and made any¬ 
thing but happy predictions of the outcome. 

5 

Before many months had passed it dawned upon 
Harmon that a passion that is not tempered by love 
and sympathy would in time burn itself out, leaving 
only the ashes of regret or the dregs of despair. 
He realized, too, that he had made a very serious 
mistake in that he had married a woman so much 


SILVERADO 


211 


older than himself. He had discovered that he did 
not really love his wife, and felt that he had not 
only deceived himself but was acting the hypocrite 
to his w T ife. All this disturbed his mind, for he de¬ 
spised hypocrites. 

Then he felt as one who had been led into a snare, 
and he new that his own passion had been the bait. 
But he tried to conceal his feelings, as most men do 
under like situations, and he treated his wife with 
due consideration and respect. Hitherto light¬ 
hearted and care-free, he now felt that his new 
responsibilities were making him grow old and look 
care-worn. But he was determined to carry out his 
promise to “ honor and protect ” the woman he had 
taken for his wife, though he knew that his heart 
had been given to another. 

With a finer and more sensitive nature the wife 
soon discovers whether or not the husband really 
loves her, and Mrs. Harmon soon realized that the 
undivided love she craved was not hers. While 
from outward appearances it could not have been 
said that theirs was altogether an unhappy union, 
both secretly felt there was something lacking, but 
neither one would openly admit it. 

Mrs. Harmon, with a woman’s fine sense of feel¬ 
ing and natural intuition, perceived that Frank was 
growing colder in his attentions to her. At times 
his work kept him out late at night, and she began 
to question if another woman had won his heart, or 
was he still thinking of Sallie? She began to doubt 
him and grow more or less jealous. She watched 
his every move and sometimes, possessed with fear 
and suspicion, followed and dodged his footsteps at 


212 


SILVERADO 


night. Jealousy was gnawing at her heartstrings, 
making her a most unhappy and miserable woman. 

Then there came a time when she told him that 
she was to become a mother, and he seemed again 
to respond to her love. 

In due time the baby came and the mother passed 
“ through the valley of the shadow of death ” in 
bringing the new being into the world. The child, 
a boy, lived and the mother recovered. Parental 
love is the most unselfish if not the most enduring. 
As the child grew it seemed to draw the parents 
closer together, and to all appearances the home 
life of the Harmons was now happy and satisfactory. 

6 

Trying to forget his youthful “love dream,” in 
which everything had centered around Sallie, Har¬ 
mon now plunged with all his might and mind into 
propositions and schemes for making money. The 
baby Frank became the center around which he 
built his castles. He began to think that heretofore 
he had been too much of an idealist and given too 
much time and thought to things altruistic. He 
had been too much of a dreamer; now he must 
wake up to the realities of life. Other people were 
making money—why should not he also get into 
the chase after fortune ? 

He knew full well that under the present eco¬ 
nomic and social system money is the greatest of 
all material blessings because of its purchasing 
power ; that it is the one power that moves all the 
machinery of the business and industrial world. 

Everybody, he thought, from the time he learns 


SILVERADO 


213 


its value feels that he has a right to make money, 
and it occurred to him that if this fundamental eco¬ 
nomic truth were more generally taught from the 
first, there would be less mental effort put forth to 
get something for nothing. His own experience in 
gambling had taught him that what was commonly 
called “ easy money ” seldom gave any real benefit 
or pleasure. Only the man that gave the best that 
is in him got the full measure in return. 

7 

While continuing the publication of his paper, 
Harmon now turned his attention to the promotion 
of mining schemes. A company was organized and 
stock issued to raise money to develop the Little 
Sallie group, which had been idle since the acci¬ 
dental death of Snelle. His friend and co-owner of 
the Little Sallie, Jennings, who had been made the 
fiscal agent in Chicago, was authorized to place 
$50,000 of the stock for development purposes. The 
other $200,000 of the capital stock was retained by 
himself, Jennings and the Snelle estate, for which 
Harmon was the administrator. Jennings was 
made secretary and treasurer of the Little Sallie 
Mining and Reduction Company, and Harmon the 
president and general manager. 

It was planned to begin active operations the next 
spring, and Dan Rattek, who had taken a course in 
mining engineering, was to be employed as super¬ 
intendent. Money and work would demonstrate 
whether or not the dreams of Snelle would ever be 
realized through those mines. 


CHAPTER XXVI 

THE MINER’S STRIKE. 

1 

The history of the discovery, development and 
growth and decline of mining towns is much the 
same, and that of Silverado was no exception to the 
rule. Usually some lone prospector, maybe after 
years of tramping through the gulches and over 
mountain slopes, searching for surface indications 
or following pieces of “ float ” rock to their source, 
finally discovers the mineral “in place,” or a lode 
or vein of the ore deposited there in the earth ages 
ago by Mother Nature. There have been many in¬ 
stances where such discoveries were wholly acci¬ 
dental and the discoverer a “ tenderfoot.” 

The prospector sinks his hole in the ground, and 
if the rock uncovered looks promising he takes it 
to the nearest assayer. If the assayer’s report 
shows that the specimens of ore carried gold or 
silver at a rate per ton warranting mining and re¬ 
duction, the first year’s assessment work is done on 
the claim within the time specified by the mining 
laws; if the assayer’s report is unfavorable, the 
prospector looks for another lode. It may be that 
some person has “ grub-staked ” him ; that is, pro¬ 
vided him with food and tools to carry on the work 
for a share in whatever locations are made. 

When a promising claim is located the news soon 


SILVERADO 


215 


spreads and other prospectors and miners begin to 
flock to that particular locality, resulting usually 
in the discovery of other mineral veins. A mining 
camp now springs into being ; a community builds 
up on the speculative value of the embryo mines. 

After while it is found that capital is needed to 
buy machinery, tools and powder, and to pay the 
miners. The original locators and owners having 
reached the limit of their own resources, must sell 
at least a part of their interest in the claims in 
order to get money to go on with the work. 

Companies are organized and sto^Jt is sold. If, 
after while, the mine turns out to be a producer of 
paying ore, the stock becomes valuable according 
to the profits derived from operations. It may have 
been a “ wild cat ” proposition from the beginning, 
in which case the stock is not worth the cost of the 
paper on which it is printed. 

2 

When a mining camp has its first “ boom,” thou¬ 
sands of prospects or claims are located and staked 
out, but after a few years it is found out that, com¬ 
paratively, there have been only a few ore-produc¬ 
ing mines developed. Usually the real mines have 
now passed into the hands of some mining corpora¬ 
tion, the principal stockholders of which are specu¬ 
lative financiers or bankers. The prospectors and 
the original miners have disappeared from the place, 
and those employed in the mines have been im¬ 
ported, many of them foreigners. 

Economic copditions, too, have changed. The 
mineral land, once open to all, has been monopo- 


216 


SILVERADO 


lized, and the laborer (miner) in order to work must 
have the permission of the land monopolist. It is 
the old story of industrial development under the 
profit system. The life and death of the mining 
town and its inhabitants, including the merchants 
and professional men, is now dependent upon the 
will and pleasure of the owners of the mines or 
their managers. Should they for some reason de¬ 
cide to close the mines, the miners are thrown out 
of employment and must seek work elsewhere. The 
town languishes and is finally deserted. Mining 
towns that once were the homes of thousands of 
workers may be found that are now the abode of 
mountain foxes, squirrels and other animals. 

3 

Silverado had passed through several stages of 
mining-town development, and most of the mines 
had become the property of three or four compa¬ 
nies, employing during the mining season about five 
hundred men. The largest company was the Grand 
Union, employing about three hundred men in its 
mines and smelter. Up to this time things had .been 
running smoothly as between the company and its 
employees, but now a new superintendent had come 
out from New York to manage the properties. 

The new manager was a man of self-important 
air and autocratic bearing, and he had not been 
long in charge when it occurred to him that ex¬ 
penses must be cut down in order to increase the 
dividends to stockholders, and an order was issued 
to reduce the wages of the men. Jhis precipitated 
a strike of all the employees of the Grand Union 


SILVERADO 


217 


company, and after a few weeks the men employed 
in all the other mines of the camp went out on a 
sympathetic strike. 

It was the old story of the industrial strike. A 
number of strike breakers were imported to take 
the places of the striking miners, but no attempt 
was made to run the smelter or other reduction 
works. The main industry of the camp was prac¬ 
tically at a standstill and as the days passed the 
feeling among the men against the Grand Union 
grew more bitter. 

There was much drunkenness among the idle 
miners and consequent disturbance of the peace. 
Special policemen and deputy sheriffs were sworn 
in to keep order in the town. Threats were whis¬ 
pered around that if the company “did not come to 
time” its mines and smelter would be blown up. 

The hitherto peaceful little town became the scene 
of disorder, strife and confusion. Most of the mer¬ 
chants took sides with the miners, but some con¬ 
tended that the sympathy strike was uncalled for 
and had weakened the cause of the strikers. The 
local police seemed unable to maintain order, and 
the mining companies appealed to the governor of 
the State to send the National Guard to protect 
their properties. When the miners heard of this 
they began to arm themselves, and the radicals 
among them declared that “if Governor Pitkin 
sends any ‘ scab herders ’ we will be ready to 
meet them.” 

4 

So far the editor of the Record had taken no de¬ 
cisive stand for or against either of the contestants, 


218 


SILVERADO 


though he had repeatedly appealed to the miners to 
commit no acts of violence, and so far there had been 
no damage done to the company’s property. He 
had advised the manager of the Grand Union to 
submit the matter of wages to a board of arbitra¬ 
tion, but had received the curt answer that “there 
was nothing to arbitrate.” 

One evening upon returning to his home Harmon 
was met at the door by Jack Ralli, the old Cornish 
miner, who said in a low but excited voice: 

“ Frank, me boy, I want to talk to ye.” 

“Well, fire away,” replied Harmon. “What’s 
coming off now?” 

“ There’s a scheme on foot to set fire to the Grand 
Union smelter and blow up the mines this very 
night. The Miners’ Union has nothing to do with 
it, but if it’s done the union will get the blame for 
it. My word for that.” 

“ Who’s back of the scheme?” 

“ Dick Daniels and a bunch o’ saloon bums and 
tin-horn gamblers, and a few sore ’eads who want 
to break up the union, an’ if they get them Finns 
and Dagos turned loose, there’ll be the dee’l to pay, 
me lad.” 

“ How did you find out about this?” 

“ Heard ’em talkin’ in the back room o’ Daniels’ 
saloon a while ago. The mob is goin’ to meet back 
o’ the saloon at midnight.” 

“ U—m—” said Harmon slowly, as if trying to 
see what might be the result if Daniels’ plot was 
carried out. “ Sure enough, it looks as if h—1 is 
about to break loose. We must stop it. Leave it 
to me, Jack; but if you find out anything more, let 


SILVERADO 


219 


me know at once. We must act quickly. Keep 
your eye on the saloon and report to me at the office 
at ten.” 

5 

Harmon rushed into the house and told his wife 
that he had a hurry call down town and didn’t know 
when he would be back. Then he walked briskly 
to the office of the Grand Union Company, where he 
found Mr. Dean, the manager, alone. 

Mr. Dean looked at him coldly, as much as to say: 
“ What business have you here, young man ?” 

The editor stated the object of his call, and told 
Mr. Dean that the strike situation was growing 
serious; that the company’s property was in danger 
of being destroyed, and urged upon him to meet 
the miners half way in an effort to come to some 
mutual agreement. He would arrange a meeting 
with them, if he would say the word. 

The manager grew very angry at first. Remov¬ 
ing his glasses and throwing down the newspaper 
which he had been reading, he said: ‘‘Who sent you 
here, and whom do you represent?” 

“ I’m a self-appointed delegate-at-large and I rep- 
sent myself only, but I plead for the best interests 
of the camp and all concerned in its welfare.” 

“ I thought so,” replied Dean with a sneer and 
an oath. “ ‘ Best interests ’—h—1! What does a 
kid like you know about it, and what business have 
you to butt into our affairs ? You and all you rep¬ 
resent can just go plumb to h—1!” 

“ If I do, you’ll go with me, and from all appear¬ 
ances, we’ll have plenty of company,” replied Har¬ 
mon, smiling. “ 1 may be only a kid, but I’ve had 


220 


SILVERADO 


more experience with and know the miners better 
than you do. Now, Mr. Dean, if you’ll get down 
from off your high horse and listen to this ‘kid’ and 
to reason, you’ll not only save your company money 
but keep us all from going to the place where snow¬ 
balls are unknown.” 

The manager nervously toyed with his glasses a 
moment, then rising to his feet, he said : “ Your 
d—d town would go to pot if it were not for these 
companies that give the men a chance to work and 
earn what I consider good wages.” 

‘‘Very true,” replied Harmon, “ but you must 
concede that the men have some rights. Think of 
the women and children that are actually going 
hungry because of this strike.” 

‘‘Whose fault is it? Not ours; but you must 
blame the hot-headed labor leaders who won’t listen 
to sense or reason. We cannot let them run our 
business; we must reserve that right to ourselves.” 

“ But when everything is satisfactory, the men 
help you to keep your plant in operation ; you can’t 
keep going without the man-power. They are not 
mere machines, but human beings, like you and me. 

I have been here long enough to know them, and 
I know the majority are reasonable men and good 
American citizens and fairly well educated—on the 
whole a better class than the foreigners you have 
imported to take their places. Why not meet them 
half way ? I will arrange a meeting between you 
and the officers of the Miners’ Union, and if you can 
show them that a reduction in wages is necessary, 
why I think most of the men will be glad to go 
back to work at a reduced wage. You are losing 


SILVERADO 


221 


money as long as this strike continues as well as 
the miners. You may be able to starve them out; 
but if you do, what have you really gained ? This 
industrial war is just a piece of foolishness, and 
if you will set aside your prejudices and anger, I 
think you’ll agree with me. Why not stop it before 
everybody in camp is ruined ?” 

“Yes, yes; but there is a principle involved, 
young man,” said Mr. Dean, his face cast downward 
as he walked the floor. 

“Why not, for the sake of peace, forget that 
part of it?” 

The mine manager walked to the window and 
looked out toward the smelter. The great furnaces 
that a month ago had been turning out bars of lead 
and silver were now dead and silent. On the out¬ 
side armed sentinels walked to and fro guarding 
the plant. 

Harmon walked to the door and was about to 
step outside, when Mr. Dean turned to him and said: 
“ Well, go ahead, young man, and see what the 
miners say.” 

6 

An hour later Harmon had succeeded in getting 
together the officers of the Miners’ Union at the 
Record office, where he explained the situation. The 
union could not afford to let Dick Daniels and his 
gang carry out their plot; it must be stopped, by 
all means, he told them. He would help to bring 
the company to reasonable terms of settlement, if 
the union would prevent any destruction of prop¬ 
erty. If the company refused to listen to reason, 


222 


SILVERADO 


he would fight it in the Record to a finish. If the 
smelter was destroyed, the union would be blamed 
for it and lose the sympathy of the people which it 
now had. “Now, it’s up to you men,’’ he con¬ 
cluded. 

The miners had listened quietly and attentively to 
all he had said. There was a moment of silence, 
after which Jack Ralli arose and said: 

“ ’Pears to me, the lad has sized up the situation 
’bout right, an’ we ought get busy an’ do just as 
he says.’’ 

It was finally argeed to call a special meeting of 
the union immediately, and all present promised 
to see to it that Daniels and his crowd did not carry 
out their plot that night. 


7 

The result of Harmon’s determined efforts to pre¬ 
vent anarchy and bloodshed in the camp was that 
the mines and smelter were saved from destruction. 
A meeting was held the next day at which it was 
decided to leave the matter of wages to a board of 
arbitration consisting of an equal number of miners 
and mine managers, with the editor as an outside, 
disinterested party. 

After a few days of deliberation the arbitration 
board decided upon a slight reduction in wages, the 
union miners to go back to work and the strike 
breakers to be discharged, all of which was agreed 
upon by both parties. 

Thus order was restored and industrial peace 
again obtained in Silverado. The plucky editor of 
the Record , through the exercise of his will power 


SILVERADO 


223 


and determination to bring the contestants together, 
had saved the town from ruin. He had also gained 
the lasting gratitude of the miners as well as the 
respect of the managers of the mines. 

“ We ought to send that editor lad to Congress, 
some day,” said Jack Ralli to a group of miners as 
they were going up the trail to the mines. “ He’s 
done more for this camp than all yer capitalists put 
together.” 

“ Right ye are, Jack!” was the unanimous re¬ 
sponse. 


CHAPTER XXVII 

DAN STRIKES A BONANZA. 

1 

Another winter has passed since the events re¬ 
corded in the previous chapter took place, and it is 
now summer time again in the mountains as well 
as elsewhere. 

It is evening—one of those clear, cool evenings so 
common in the Rockies at this season, with the 
pure, bracing air that makes one glad he is alive. 
Harmon had often thought that it was this invigo¬ 
rating air that gave the mountaineers and pros¬ 
pectors that buoyancy of spirit and unwavering 
optimism so common among them. 

This particular evening there was gathered in 
front of the Silverado postoffice more than the 
usual crowd of people awaiting the arrival of the 
stage and U. S. mail. 

“ What’s cornin’ off here ?” asked one of the late 
arrivals of Harmon, who had been talking to one- 
of the crowd. “ Anybody in particular cornin’ in 
to-night ?” 

“Well, yes,’’ replied the editor, smiling; “I’m 
looking for my old partner, Jennings, and his wife.” 

“You don’t say. An’ so he’s married—to the 
schoolma’am, I reckon. I’ll bet you’ll be glad to 
see ’em. Everybody liked that feller when he was 
here, though he was a kind o’ Sunday-school chap, 


SILVERADO 225 

an’ never would gamble or take a drink with the 
boys. Smart feller, too, he was.” 

Then the stage rolled in sight, and soon it stopped 
in front of the postoffice. When the several pas¬ 
sengers stepped out and three of them were recog¬ 
nized by nearly everybody, a shout of welcome by 
the crowd greeted them. 

“Sure glad to see you, Ed, and you, Mrs.—or 
shall I call you Ruby?” said Harmon as he shook 
hands with both of them. “And here’s Dan, too. 
Dan, old boy, how are you ?” 

“ Fine as silk, Frank, only I still have to look at 
things darkly through a glass,” replied Dan. There 
was the old-time good-natured smile on his face, 
but the merry twinkle of his eyes was hidden behind 
a pair of dark glasses. 

Jennings seemed to have grown somewhat older 
in looks as well as in manner in the four years of 
work in Chicago, but Harmon thought Ruby looked 
younger and prettier than ever. Her presence then 
and there somehow made him think of Sallie. A 
deep muffled sigh escaped him and a shadow passed 
over his face, but only for a moment. He recovered 
himself as he grasped one of the suit-cases and said 
in a cheery voice : 

“Come on, folks; there’s a supper waiting for 
you up at the house.” 

2 

Jennings and Dan had returned to Silverado to 
organize and direct the work of development on the 
Little Sallie group of mines. Dan had always been 
optimistic about striking rich ore in the Little Sallie, 


226 


SILVERADO 


and since he was well acquainted with that particu¬ 
lar locality of mining ground he was to be placed 
in charge of the work; 

Fifty thousand dollars had been raised by the sale 
of stock and this money was to be expended for 
development. Dan thought this amount would be 
sufficient to turn Snelle’s dream into a reality. Of 
course it might turn out, as in many other cases, 
that the money would be simply “blown in” the 
ground. But those who had bought the stock were 
willing to take the chance. 

The exploitation or development of a gold or 
silver mine is always more or less of a gamble. If 
ore is found in paying quantities, the promoters may 
become wealthy ; on the other hand, it may turn 
out that the ore is of a too low grade to pay for 
mining, and the money expended is lost to the in¬ 
vestor. It has been estimated by some one that for 
every dollar’s worth of gold or silver taken from 
mines two dollars have been spent for labor and 
material. This may be true, because in every mining 
district there are hundreds of mining claims upon 
which money has been expended that never turned 
out to be anything more than holes in the ground. 

3 

The day following their arrival in Silverado, 
Jennings and Dan, accompanied by Harmon, might 
have been seen riding up Horse Gulch toward the 
Snelle mines. In due time they arrived at the site 
where had stood the old cabin, but only a few 
charred logs now remained to mark the place. 

Jennings remarked on the change in the sur- 


SILVERADO 


227 


roundings. The mountain sides, formerly covered 
with the forest verdure of conifers and aspens, 
were now studded with the blackened stumps and 
trunks of trees destroyed by the forest fire of four 
years ago. As he looked out upon the scene, he 
thought of a forest in mourning, if such a thing 
could be, over its departed dead. The somber and 
sad scene was brightened somewhat by the grass, 
weeds and tall pinkish flowers that had sprung up 
here and there in the open spaces between the 
stumps. It was as if Nature had intended to deco¬ 
rate the graves of the thousands of dead trees that 
in years past gave color and beauty to the moun¬ 
tains. 

Glancing around after they had dismounted, 
Harmon said: “ The first thing that’s got to be 
done, boys, is to build another cabin and bunkhouse 
for the men.” 

“ Yes,” said Dan,” I think we can get enough 
logs out of the standing dead timber for the job.” 

In single file the three men proceeded up the trail 
to the Little Sallie tunnel. No work had been done 
there since the day of the fatal blast, and they were 
surpised to find things in as good condition as they 
were. Snelle had done his work well; there were 
no cave-ins, and the timbering appeared to be sound 
and safe. It would require but little work to re¬ 
open the mine. 

Each one carrying a lighted candle, the men 
reached the end of the tunnel and stood where the 
pile of dirt and rock thrown out by the last blast 
still lay undisturbed. It was the place where Snelle 


228 


SILVERADO 


had lost his life and where Dan had had such a nar¬ 
row escape from death. 

For a moment they stood there in silence. Prob¬ 
ably the same thoughts of Snelle and his kindly, 
optimistic spirit were passing through the minds of 
all. A shudder passed through Dan’s body when 
he recalled what Snelle’s “ last shot ” had done. 

4 

Harmon and Jennings started to return to the 
outside, when Dan picked up an old rusty pick lying 
at his feet and half covered with rocks, and said: 

“ Wait a minute, boys. Before he touched it off, 
Uncle John said that that shot would uncover the 
vein. I’ve dreamed about it a good many times. 
Hold my light while I stick a pick in it.” 

While Harmon and Jennings held the candles, 
Dan walked up to the breast of the tunnel, raised 
his pick and struck one, two, three blows into the 
wall before him. A mass of loosened rock gave 
away and fell at his feet. He stooped and picked 
up a piece of quartz and held it up in the dim candle 
light. He brought it up close to his eyes and ex¬ 
amined it for a moment in silence. Then, somewhat 
excited, he exclaimed • 

“ Look boys—free gold! We have struck the 
vein. Our fortune is made !” 

Other pieces of the rock were picked up and ex¬ 
amined, and before they left the place they were 
satisfied that the Little Sallie vein had been found 
and that the ore would run very high in gold. 

Not until they were ready to open up the mine 
did Harmon and his friends make known their rich 


SILVERADO 


229 


strike. But when once published in the Record the 
news soon spread, and Silverado took on new life. 
Other prospects in the vicinity of the Little Sallie 
were opened up, and there was renewed activity in 
mining throughout the camp. 

Soon after a railway line was surveyed into the 
town, and it was reported that actual construction 
would begin in a short time. The Little Sallie had 
put Silverado on the map again. 

The work of development proved the rich strike 
and the Little Sallie became famous as one of the 
richest and largest producers in the camp. Snelle’s 
dream had come true, though the old miner was 
now beyond the land of dreams. 

5 

The following season, Harmon, finding that his 
mining interests demanded most of his time, sold his 
newspaper. The new proprietor turned the paper 
into a daily, the town having grown to such pro¬ 
portions as to be able to support an every-day (ex¬ 
cept Sunday) newspaper. A State and National 
political campaign being about to open, too, there 
was political patronage in sight. Heretofore the 
Record had been strictly non-partisan. 

Under the direct management of Dan Rattek, the 
Little Sallie mine was producing great quantities 
of paying ore and promised to make the owners 
immensely rich. The mine became famous through¬ 
out the mining world. Several offers to purchase 
were turned down, but when Harmon and his asso¬ 
ciates received an offer of half a million dollars 
from a syndicate of New York and Chicago capit- 


230 


SILVERADO 


alists for their interests they decided to sell. What 
more could they want or need ? 

6 

With so much money at their command, the world, 
somehow, presented a new outlook for Harmon and 
Jennings. So far as they were concerned the chase 
after fortune was over. The “giddy dame’’ had 
smiled upon them, and Snelle’s dream had become a 
reality to them. Money they now had a plenty, 
but there were other problems to solve. How could 
they make the best use of their wealth ? Theirs 
was not a selfish, greedy nature ; would money now 
make them as stingy and grasping as it had made 
others ? 

The share of the Snelle estate would, of course, 
go to Sallie, who was still in Paris. In due time 
the money was placed to her credit in a Chicago 
bank, to be drawn upon as she wished. She was 
now independent of her benefactress and had ample 
means of her own to complete her education and 
training. 

Harmon had long had a desire to go to California, 
and his wife since her return from there had longed 
to go back. Mrs. Harmon was a woman who loved 
dress and display ; now she would be able to satisfy 
every desire for dress and could mingle with and 
among the “best society,’’ but a little mining camp 
in the midst of the Rockies was no place for such dis¬ 
play. What was the good of money, she thought, 
unless one could make a show of it to the world ? 
One of her ideas of happiness was in making the 
world more or less envious of her possessions, and 


SILVERADO 


231 


it greatly tickled her vanity to know that the gos¬ 
sipy women of Silverado must now envy her. If 
she had her way, she would make the people sit up 
and take notice of the Harmons from this time on. 

As for Harmon, he felt that he needed and was 
entitled to a rest after his long years of struggle 
for existence,—a struggle that had been his since 
his boyhood days when his father died—so he readily 
agreed with his wife to go to California. But her 
ideas about spending money in vain display before 
the world were not his. So-called society had no 
attractions for him. He would devote his money 
as well as the rest of his life to a better purpose. 
Now he would have time to carefully study social 
and economic problems, and he would write articles 
on these subjects for the newspapers and magazines. 

He was now in the prime of life, and he did not 
propose to grow old as he had seen others grow old 
and brainless when fortune smiled on them. Now 
that he need not worry any more about making a 
living he would have more time to devote to the 
cultivation of his mind. He remembered reading 
that Swedenborg said that in heaven we grow ever 
younger. Why not put the great Swedish philoso¬ 
pher’s idea to a test by determining to grow youth¬ 
ful instead of old in this world ? 

Sandy Campbell had told him that the real mean¬ 
ing of youth is vital force—that undying, fiery 
principle within us which animates our being and 
spurs us on to action and achievement. “ The secret 
of youth, then,” Sandy had said, “ must be to keep 
this fire ever burning within us by providing it with 
proper fuel and ever increasing its illuminating 


232 


SILVERADO 


flame as the years pass. Age should not be mea¬ 
sured in years but by the state or condition of this 
divine fire. Youth is a quality, a condition of spir¬ 
itual and mental energy ; old age is mental decay.” 

As the years come and go, he thought, why not 
grow wiser and stronger, then ? Why should it 
be said of him that he had lost his youth when he 
was really beginning to know how to use his men¬ 
tal and spiritual powers? He thought that when 
he found that he was losing an interest in life and 
its problems, and not until then, would he consider 
himself growing old. 


7 

Jennings had always been of an altruistic nature, 
with a very strong desire to do something to make 
the world better, or a more fit place for human 
habitation, a desire probably inherited from his 
preacher father. Heretofore he had felt himself 
bound by the shackles of poverty, but now he was 
economically free and the limitations of the wage- 
earner held him no longer. He was still full of 
“pep” and ambition, and he would plunge right 
into settlement and social welfare work in Chicago. 
He felt that he could give advice and material assist¬ 
ance to unfortunate men and women; he would 
interview employers and try to induce them to im. 
prove working conditions in shops and factories, 
thus securing the good will between employees and 
employer. 

By careful and judicious investment of his money, 
he felt that his own economic situation was secure, 
and he would work for social justice and the eco- 


SILVERADO 


233 


nomic betterment of all workers, by means of or¬ 
ganization, lectures and writing for publications. 
He would try to interest other men in the work of 
improving social and industrial conditions in the 
large cities. He knew of the conditions in the con¬ 
gested districts of the industrial centers, and he 
believed that unless something was done to check 
the drift of population to the already overcrowded 
districts conditions would grow worse. 

He knew that there were big men, and rich men, 
who were not altogether selfish. It seemed to him 
that it was the “ job ” of these big and brainy men 
to make the world better, if it was ever going to 
be made better. The thing to do was to change the 
viewpoint of these men, if their viewpoint had, in 
the race for wealth and power, become narrow and 
selfish. 

Jennings believed that the heart of humanity beat 
for justice, and if it could only be aroused, there 
were strong and bright minds in the world that 
would in time find the way out of all social disorder 
and economic injustice. These thoughts inspired 
him, and he now saw the promise of a life worth 
while and far superior to a life of money grubbing. 
It would be a life of joyful service, and the knowl¬ 
edge that Ruby would be heart and soul with him 
in such work only added to his joy of anticipation. 

8 

As for Dan, he was retained by the new owners 
of the Little Sallie as Superintendent. The large 
cities seemed to have no attraction for him. He 
liked the canyons of the Rockies better than the 


234 


SILVERADO 


“ canyons ” of New York or Chicago. The crowds 
on Broadway and State Street he said had reminded 
him of flocks of sheep or herds of cattle driven by 
cruel herders through narrow passages in the 
mountains. He loved the freedom of the hills. 
When a boy he had looked up to those high moun¬ 
tain peaks and prayed as if they were the abode of 
the Almighty. To his childish mind it had seemed 
that up there where He could look out over the 
world was the place where God would naturally 
dwell. According to Dan’s view, the great moun¬ 
tain region of the West was “ God’s own country.” 

So when Jennings suggested that he accompany 
him and Ruby to Chicago, he said: 

“No, Ed; I was born in a mining camp, have 
spent most of my life among these hills, and here I 
expect to stay until the last shift is called.” 


CHAPTER XXVIII 

CLOSING SCENES. 

1 

A Jong stretch of sandy beach, washed by the ebb 
and flow of the broad Pacific, there is the ceaseless, 
surging roar of the white-crested waves as they 
break in spray and foam and spread themselves in 
thin sheets upon the shore, and then flow back with 
the receding undertow. 

The wall of night fog has rolled back into the sea 
or been dispelled by the rays of the morning sun. 
A fresh, cool breeze is blowing from the northwest, 
giving new life to all who feel its invigorating 
touch. Flocks of sea-gulls and other birds of the 
sea sail through the air, nowand then dipping down 
into the restless ocean, their shrill cry at times 
reaching the shore. Far out at sea the masts and 
smoke of a coast-line steamer are just visible to the 
eye. The sun is nearing the meridian height, and 
the glistening white sands of the beach reflect its 
warm rays. 

A man of middle age, clad in a white linen suit, 
with a broad Mexican sombrero shading his eyes, 
is strolling along the beach. A bare-footed boy, 
about eight years old, wearing a wide-rimmed 
straw hat and knickerbockers buttoned to a white 
waist, runs before him. Now and then the little 
fellow stops to play in the sand, building mounds 


236 


SILVERADO 


where it is soft and moist. Sometimes a breaker 
reaches farther in on the beach than the rest and 
washes away the works of the amateur mound- 
builder. The boy dances in glee and screams to the 
top of his voice when the cool, briny water washes 
his bare feet or the spray splashes in his face. 

“ Papa! Papa!” he cries ; then runs to catch up 
with his father. 

A short distance to the north a group of surf 
bathers are seen. A number are sitting or lying 
down, scraping the loose warm sand over their 
shivering bodies, having just come out of the water; 
some are walking along the beach, their bathing 
suits still untouched by the water, and others are 
strung out in the water, clinging to a long rope as 
the inrolling waves lift them off their feet or break 
in foamy spray over their heads. A few may be 
seen swimming out beyond the breakers. 

Now and then the stroller along the beach stops 
and looks out upon the vast expanse of water. He 
appears to be lost in thought; his spirit is out there 
where the sea and sky seem to meet and he appears 
to be oblivious to his immediate surroundings. In 
his thoughts he is living again the life that is past 
and gone. 

Many scenes pass before his mind’s eye like a mov¬ 
ing screen or panorama. One scene is repeated 
and seems especially clear and vivid. It is a moun¬ 
tain scene, with the stately evergreens pointing to 
the clear, blue sky overhead. There under the shade 
of a lovely spruce, he sees a young man and maiden 
and, as if whispered in his ears by the billows out 


SILVERADO 237 

yonder, he hears the words: “ I love you—some day 
I will make you my wife !” 

“ Papa ! Papa!” 

The cry of the little boy startles him as if sud¬ 
denly aroused from a dream. As he takes the hand 
of the boy he awakens to his present situation, and 
compares the present with the time of hard toil 
and struggle that had been his in the years agone. 
But, he questions himself, was he not really happier 
then than now ? What was it that was lacking in 
his present life ? 

Had he not been successful ? Yes, so far as ma¬ 
terial things went, he had all that he needed for 
comfort and pleasure. Up there on the bluff, over¬ 
looking the wide sea, is a bungalo, surrounded by 
semi-tropical plants and flowers, which he calls his 
home. A servant or two wait upon him and do all 
the work to keep up the place. A fine horse and 
carriage are at his service when he so wills. Neigh¬ 
bors come and go, and visitors at the beach from 
far and near stop to admire the surroundings of 
his home. Could he wish for anything more ? 

In these strolls along the beach, a spirit of loneli¬ 
ness sometimes comes over him. The rolling sea 
out there seems to murmer : 

“That is all—that is all!” 

No, another voice whispers in his ears, that little 
boy playing there in the sand is left to cheer him. 
For his sake he must live and still work in order 
that the boy be so trained and educated that he 
may grow up to be a man of power and influence 
for good in the world. He had some ideas of his 
own as to how his boy should be educated. Most of 


238 


SILVERADO 


his own education had been acquired in the hard 
school of experience, and from observation he had 
come to the conclusion that much time was wasted 
in youth on what was usually called “ education.” 

Boys and girls are taught some things which they 
never make use of in active life, he mused, and are 
kept in ignorance of many vital truths. They spend 
much time on matters that are purely theoretical 
or impractical, and the things that they really need 
to know to make a real success of life are given 
little or no attention. Was not that one reason why 
there were so many misfits in the world ? He had 
often thought so. Now that he had ample means to 
do it (for his California investments had doubled his 
fortune), why not plan and establish a school for 
boys that would give them a practical education ? 
Here was a suggestion that opened up a new avenue 
of usefulness for him. 

The stroller stopped and looked back toward 
the place where his present home was. Six years 
ago he had come to this sunny clime, and with 
money realized from the sale of a mine in Colorado 
he had built that bungalo ; beautified the grounds, 
and furnished the interior of the house with every¬ 
thing to make it comfortable and enjoyable. Then 
he had said to himself: ‘‘I will take life easy for a 
time ; I will forget worry and enjoy myself.” 

For three years everything in that home seemed 
to have been as homes should be. His wife had 
given much time to entertainment and social func¬ 
tions. He had been as happy, perhaps, as the 
average married man who has gotten beyond the 


SILVERADO 239 

stage where the fear of poverty does not annoy or 
worry him. 

But then there came a change. One day when he 
had returned from a visit to San Diego, he had 
been met by the little boy on the porch of the bun- 
galo. The child’s words again ring in his ears : 

“Papa! papa! Do you know, mama has gone 
away, and we won’t have to ask her for everything, 
for she is never, never coming back again ! She said 
so when she kissed me good-bye. Another man 
came and took her away on the train.” 

The child’s story was confirmed by a note which 
read : “ I am leaving you, dear, because at last I 
have found my affinity. I hope you will forgive 
me. Take care of Little Frank, and you both will 
be happier without me.” 

Thus he had been left alone with the little boy, 
whose future had been uppermost in his mind until 
a day ago, when a letter had come from his old- 
time friend, saying : “Ruby says you must come to 
Chicago next winter, for we have a surprise for 
you. Somebody is coming back from Europe, and 
we know that she , too, wants to see you.” 

Then from his wallet he had taken a little note 
hidden there for years. It was in a girl’s hand¬ 
writing and though time had dimmed the words his 
memory recalled them : “ . .1 love you as much 

as ever. . . When I am rich and famous I will 

come back to you.’’ 

He is awakened from his reverie by the little boy, 
who again comes running up to him, and they pro¬ 
ceed up the beach. 

A mingling of shouts and laughter now reaches 


240 


SILVERADO 


their ears. The stroller and the little boy have 
reached the place where the surf-bathers are. They 
stop to watch their play and sport—healthful and 
pleasure-giving play. All the cares and problems 
of life are for the time completely forgotten by old 
and young alike, he says to himself. A moment 
later he is aroused from his musings by two of the 
“mermaids of the beach,” who stand or rather 
dance before him, their girlish voices blending as 
one in an invitation to join in their sport : 

“ Oh, Mr. Harmon, why don’t you come in? The 
water is just fine !” 


2 

Now, kind reader, let us cross the Sierras, whirl 
ourselves through Nature’s great playground, the 
valleys and canyons of the Rockies; then out upon 
the Western plains, cross the Missouri and Missis¬ 
sippi rivers, passing swiftly over the fertile fields 
and prairies of the Middle West, and we finally find 
ourselves again in the City of the Great Lakes. 

Our train was late in arrival, and when we enter 
a beautitul home on Drexel Boulevard the after¬ 
noon is beckoning to the evening. Without disturb¬ 
ing the occupants of that home, we will take a 
bird-like peep inside. 

Seated at the table of a cozily-furnished room we 
see a lady of mature years, her face wearing the 
smile of a loving mother and happy, contented wife. 
She is writing, while sitting on the floor beside her 
a little girl, with silken curls and deep blue eyes, is 
playing with square wooden blocks, piling them up 
in such shapes as her childish fancy directs. 


SILVERADO 


241 


The child’s work for this time is finished, and as 
she looks up at her mother she says : “ Oh, mama, 
look—see my school house, and there’s a ’munity 
house, too.” 

“ Yes, dear,” the mother says; “ very nice.” 

The child rises to her feet and goes to her mother. 
“ Mama, what are you writing—a story?” 

“ No, sweetheart; I’m writing to Uncle Dan. 
And do you know, he is coming to see us soon.” 

“ What does Uncle Dan do ?” 

“ He is a mining engineer.” 

“ What’s a nengineer?” 

“ A man who makes plans and tells the men how 
to do things.” 

The child is silent for a few moments; then comes 
another question : “ Papa does things, too ; doesn’t 
he, mama ?” 

“ Yes, dear heart.” 

“ He works so hard to help the poor people, and 
talks to folks to make them good—even to naughty 
boys and bad, bad men. Why does he do it, mama?” 

“Because he loves them, I guess; just like he 
loves you and me, dear.” 

“We love papa, too; don’t we, mama?” Then 
after a little pause: “But how can he love those 
wicked, wicked people ?” 

The mother picks up the little girl in her arms, 
presses her to her breast and kisses her gently. 
“You are a regular little question box—an interro¬ 
gation point, as your papa calls you. When you 
grow bigger you will understand things that you 
can’t now.” 


242 


SILVERADO 


Then there are soft footsteps and a man’s face 
appears between the portiers. 

“ Oh, here is papa now !” 

There under the portiers stands a man, erect and 
noble in bearing, with a serious yet kindly face, 
which now breaks out in smiles as the mother and 
child rush to his side and embrace him. 

“ Did you hear the compliment Evylin was pay¬ 
ing you a moment ago ?” 

“ No, my Ruby, I did not; what did she say ?” 

“That’s a secret, isn’t it, mama?” 

“Yes?” he says, picking the little girl up in his 
arms and kissing her. “And I have secrets, too, or 
rather, good news. Ruby, dear, 1 have at last suc¬ 
ceeded in interesting those wealthy men I told you 
about in our colonization project. To start with, 
we are going to take one hundred families of the 
very poorest we can find on the West Side and 
transplant them on land in the Southwest which the 
railroad company is giving us for almost nothing. 
Mr. Campbell, who understands the chemistry of 
soils and knows quite a bit about farming, is going 
to take charge of that end of it. ‘Sandy,’ as the 
boys in Silverado used to call him, is very enthu¬ 
siastic over the proposition, for he plans to carry 
out some of his single tax and co-operative theories 
when we get things going.” 

“ Oh, I’m so glad ! Surely, as Evylin just said, 
‘ Papa does things, too.’ ” 

“ But that is not all. What do you think? Frank 
is leaving California to-night, and will be here the 
day after Sallie arrives.” 

“ Oh, you dear man !” she exclaims in girlish 


SILVERADO 


243 


glee as she throws her arms about his shoulders. 
“ How perfectly lovely everything is going to be !” 

3 

Another scene and our story will be told. 

It is the season of grand opera. Elite society of 
Chicago and the lovers of classical music are all 
on the qui vive , waiting to hear the new opera star 
whose praise the critics have been singing in the 
newspapers of the East. Before large audiences in 
New York and Boston she has already won public 
favor, and now Chicago is to listen to her wonder¬ 
ful voice. 

The opera house is packed to its utmost capacity 
with the expectant crowd. The orchestra has been 
playing, and the curtain rolls up for the first scene. 
The minor characters have sung and acted their 
parts, and now the prima donna, Mil. Sarah Snelle, 
queen-like, in costume befitting her role, glides in 
upon the stage. She is greeted with thrilling ap¬ 
plause ; then there is perfect stillness for a moment. 
The “ Colorado Nightingale,” as she has been called 
by the newspapers, begins to sing. Her voice, 
strong and clear yet sweet, seems to reach every 
corner of the auditorium. The audience is spell¬ 
bound-charmed, as it were, by that marvelous 
song. Oh, the wonderful power of the human voice, 
when expressed in music like this! 

The curtain goes down on the first scene. Then 
the audience breaks out in applause, the vibrations 
of which seem to shake the very building. The 
singer is called before the curtain, and as the beau¬ 
tiful, queenly young woman stands there bowing 


244 


SILVERADO 


and smiling, masses of fragrant flowers are spread 
at her feet. 

To Jennings and Ruby, who, together with Dan, 
Harmon, Campbell and Pennington, are seated in a 
box, it seems almost unbelievable that an American 
girl, and a girl from a little mountain town in 
Colorado at that, had broken the rules of American 
opera, which heretofore had barred American sing¬ 
ers from ascending the heights reserved exclusively 
for foreigners. MissSnelle’s recognition asaprima 
donna of the first rank was therefore most remark¬ 
able if not amazing. 

Jennings knew it was something out of the ordi¬ 
nary to see an American girl occupy the spotlight 
during the grand opera season, and the marvel of 
it all was that she had not assumed some unpro¬ 
nounceable foreign name. Her triumph was a 
distinctive tribute to American art and music. As 
she stood there before the curtain, Jennings turned 
admiringly to his friend Harmon, as much as to say, 
“ how proud you must be of her now.” 

As Miss Snelle looks out upon the sea of faces, 
uplifted in smiles of admiration and wonder, and 
observes among them her Silverado girlhood 
friends, her bosom heaves with the joy and pride of 
the realization of her life’s dream. Success has 
crowned her efforts and the work of years of prep¬ 
aration. The world is hers; the people worship at 
her feet. What more could she desire ? 

For a moment a shadow of sadness touches her 
face. Like a picture flashed upon a screen, she sees 
herself standing in the door of a miner’s cabin, out 
there amid the great mountains, listening to the 


SILVERADO 


245 

bird song, as a young man of sprightly gait and 
smiling face approaches. He embraces and kisses 
her passionately. His cheery voice rings in her 
ears: “I love you, Sallie—some day we shall be 
married!” 

The orchestra plays. 

Again her breast heaves—this time with a sigh. 

She has conquered; she has won the applaudits 
of the world. But the best thing, the greatest 
thing in life—is that still hers to claim ? Her own 
sweet, girlish love has only grown deeper and 
stronger since that day when she penned her part¬ 
ing note to him ; but now she wonders if she may 
still hope that his love and trusting faith in her has 
not changed in the years that have separated them. 

Could she have looked into his eyes at that mo¬ 
ment she would have exclaimed : “ My cup of joy 
runneth over!” 


THE END. 



































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